St. Louis Eats and Drinks With Joe and Ann Pollack

The Messenger

 Woody Harrelson is an actor of amazing versatility -- for example, even as he is a typical radio talk-show host trying to engage in conversation while doing play-by-play on the end of the world in "2012," he's a demon-driven Army captain with the horrible assignment of knocking on doors in rural New Jersey, then telling someone that his or her husband or wife or son or daughter has been killed in Iraq or Afghanistan.

That's "The Messenger," another powerful but extremely unpleasant film that opens today, in time for the holiday season.

Versatility has long been a Harrelson long suit, from nearly 200 episodes of "Cheers" to movies as different as "White Men Can't Jump," "The Thin Red Line," "Wag the Dog" and "No Country for Old Men."

He's Capt. Tony Stone here, paired with Ben Cooper as Sgt. Will Montgomery, back from Iraq and carrying shrapnel. Their orders are firm. Don't talk to anyone but next of kin. Don't discuss a cause of death. Don't show emotion. Don't say you're sorry for the loss. Tell them someone will call in a few days. Leave.

This is difficult work, though they don't absorb as much pain as they inflict. But they face the pain, and the tears, and the anger (a short but brilliant moment from Steve Buscemi), and the stunned silences, and Harrelson and Cooper turn in amazing performances for Oren Moverman, a first-time director who wrote the screenplay in collaboration with Alessandro Camon. Moverman, by the way, is a former Israeli Army officer.

But Cooper strays from the Army's game plan, letting his feelings down with Olivia Pitterson, a lovely, realistic portrayal by Samantha Morton. Cooper does not turn to the bottle like Harrelson, a recovering alcoholic always a moment or two from relapse; he returned home from war to discover his girl friend had taken up with someone else.

As powerful as "The Messenger" is, with an honest and straightforward ending, it sags in the middle as the pressure turns Harrelson and Cooper into more ordinary men, with the ordinary problems and futile search for solutions we all have to deal with.

Opens today at Plaza Frontenac.

-Joe

The Damned United

 Hooray! A movie about sports that doesn't end with a triumphant game!

"The Damned United," a superior film about a haunted, fatally flawed man, is an exciting story about English soccer, specifically about Brian Clough, a genius while he was coaching and winning at little Derby County but when he moved up in class to coach Leeds United, he self-destructed. The film is based on an episode in the life of Clough, who died in 2004.

It's a triumph for Michael Sheen, once again playing an Englishman in superb style (remember him as David Frost in "Frost/Nixon?"). With Timothy Spall as Peter Taylor, his loyal assistant coach and defender against all enemies, Sheen portrays Clough as a combination of Al Davis, Vince Lombardi and Don Shula, not against bending the rules when victory is hanging in the balance, and always a step ahead in finding talent and being a superb leader and tactician. Taylor was the detail man, his own ego subordinate to Clough until Clough goes too far and Taylor leaves him just as Clough is about to step into a brighter spotlight.

Clough's over-the-top ego and quick temper often blinded him to reality, but for many years he challenged -- and usually defeated -- anyone who stood in his way. His battles against Sam Longson, the team chairman of Derby, produced some epic struggles, and watching Sheen and Jim Broadbent go toe to toe is thrilling.

Colm Meany also is excellent as Don Revie, the Leeds coach who stepped up to run the English national team, leaving a space for Clough to fill. But Revie's accomplishments remain in memory, and his success sticks in Clough's craw, becoming larger and stickier as he faces his own failures.

Peter Morgan's screenplay, from David Peace's book, is straightforward and fast-moving, and Tom Hooper directed with style, seamlessly cutting televised moments from long-ago games into the story without missing a beat. It's a fine film, showing the passion that the English have for their own form of football.

Opens today at the Plaza Frontenac

-Joe

Mosaic

Did Mosaic start out to be a restaurant and end up being part of the bar scene? Or did it start out hoping for a good bar crowd and offering some fashionable food alongside? We suspect it's more the former than the latter, but the point is moot because Mosaic has turned into a reliable downtown spot for contemporary food with imaginative creations served in handsome presentation with excellent spicing, sometimes subtle, sometimes forward.

And it's a handsome spot as well, with tall windows and red walls welcoming guests. Mosaic also has taken over the room just to the west, using the same entrance foyer, and put all smoking in an area that is primarily bar.

All the food is in tapas style, small plates, although these are, as tapas go, large servings on small plates, designed for sharing. A platter of cured meat held slices of spicy grilled andouille sausage, prosciutto ham wrapped around sticks of manchego cheese, shaved Spanish chorizo, a slightly spicy ham the server referred to as speck, good olives and some grainy mustard was more than enough for two. So was the generous serving of what the menu terms “North African style” hummus, topped with quadrants of chopped tomatoes, black olives, feta and whole chickpeas. We're not sure what defines it as North African but it certainly was brightly flavored, aided by a lemon note that was flavor-forward without being sour. The pita wedges were soft and warm from the grill, and the effect was an outstanding rendition of a dish that's often routine.

The standout in the next round was a half-pound of well-cleaned, tasty, tender mussels in a coconutty, creamy broth that had enjoyed being steeped in lemongrass and with a hit of pepper as well, an unctuous combination that was a perfect mate for the warm toasted slice of garlic-rubbed country bread. Beautifully cooked, the broth alone would have made an elegant first course in any fine restaurant. We also had to try the pork cheeks. Expecting a braise on the promised white cheddar grits (which were dee-licious), we received something that certainly didn't appear to be anything like that. Two cubes an inch or so across sat on puddles of the grits. The brown exterior seemed to be deep-fried, a thin layer of seasoned dough holding the shredded pork. Between the dough and the grits was a spoonful of an ancho chile sauce, which went nicely. Our only complaint was that the meat itself could have been moister, but it was tender and the overall combination was tasty.

And then there was, again using the menu term, a chicken “wing.” We believe that when quotation marks are used around something, it should either be an actual quote or a way of indicating that what's inside the marks is not what it says it is. Mosaic used the marks correctly, because these wings turned out to be drumsticks. Their meat had been scraped away from the bone almost all the way to the knee, so to speak, some chorizo wrapped around the bone, the chicken replaced, bulging considerably, of course, and the whole thing breaded and deep-fried. Yes, interesting. But wait, there's more. A small container of blue cheese dip rode shotgun, and each leg was garnished with a pipette, like a really long eyedropper, of an agave hot sauce. Sweet, hot, slightly bitter and meant to be dribbled on the chicken, it completed the necessary elements for a take on the Buffalo style.

Mosaic offers a pleasant wine list with a good by-the-glass selection and a proper range of bottles, and to complement what exotic atmosphere there is, a good offering of fancy cocktails including some delicious caiprinhas.

A mole bread pudding arrived crowned with tequila-soaked golden raisins, which added to the complexity of the dessert. The dark chocolate-colored slice proved to be properly sweet and spicy, with a definite hit of chile. The rompopo sauce alongside was basically a crème anglaise, named for the eggnog-like drink popular in Mexico, and a spoonful of a butterscotch ice cream, very full-flavored, but unfortunately studded with small ice chunks from improper storage.

We've always found servers here very knowledgeable about the menu, although on busy nights, it can be a little difficult to hear them. Food arrives nice and hot, but servers bring it as it's done rather than arranged by courses, so it's a good idea to order slowly, a couple of items at a time. The servers are accustomed to this, and often leave a copy of the menu on the table for planning the next round. All in all, very good food for a reasonable price.

Mosaic

1001 Washington Ave.

314-621-6001

www.mosaicrestaurants.com

Lunch & Dinner daily, Brunch Sat.-Sun.

Credit cards: Yes

Wheelchair access: Yes

Smoking: Yes

Tapas: $5-$15

 

Fantastic Mr. Fox

Pairing a couple of quirky geniuses, like Roald Dahl and Wes Anderson, is bound to create something special, regardless of which end of the spectrum is reached. We're well on the high side with "Fantastic Mr. Fox," from a 1970 Dahl story, refigured by Anderson for the 21st century to provide complete delight.

Whether or not it's for children is a permanent question with the work of either man, but I think the understanding level is such that both groups will have a splendid time, even if they're focused on different things in the same statement or action. Noah Baumbach, author of the charming film, "The Squid and the Whale," co-wrote the screenplay with Anderson, and it's charming and witty, rather than flat-out belly-laugh funny.

For example, the film is set in England, but there's a definite language divide among the extremely talented providers of the voices. Talented Americans speak for the animals, like George Clooney (is he in everything this holiday season?) as Mr. Fox, Meryl Streep as Mrs. Fox and Bill Murray as the Badger, Fox's buddy in crime and everything else. Humans have English voices, like Michael Gambon for the chief villain, Mr. Bean, one of the triumverate of Boggis, Bunce and Bean, known for villainy and chicken farming, for alliteration and for being identified as "one fat, one short, one lean."

The animation is wonderful, in a return to stop-motion photography and manipulation ofthe characters by people, rather than a computer program (Yes, I know the programming is done by people, but things are different. Trust me.) Mark Gustafson is responsible for the animation, Tristan Oliver the photography, Nelson Lowry the overall production design and Alexandre Desplat for the music, which is something special.

And there is a sort of plot. Mr. Fox has retired from the chicken business and wants to live a life of leisure as a country squire with his wife, their son Ash, and a visiting nephew, Kristofferson. But after a while, he feels the old urges and it's easy to figure out what happens next. But while it happens, we're treated to a glorious piece of movie-making that brings fun to everyone.

Opens today on multiple screens.

-Joe

Little House on the Prairie

 

Sunbonnets were all the rage in the Fox Theatre lobby last night as "Little House on the Prairie" arrived for a five-day run. Fans of the Laura Ingalls Wilder books will be satisfied in the portrayals of the Ingalls family, theater buffs will be a little less satisfied with the transition to live theater.

The evening is pleasant, with excellent work from Steve Blanchard as Pa Ingalls and from Kate Loprest as Nellie Oleson, a comic villain of the very best sort. Her song "Without an Enemy," is the evening's closest thing to a show-stopper. Loprest is over the top all

the time, as Nellie should be, and she brings levity to a book that sometimes seems to revel in a series of sad events and even sadder characters, like Mrs. Brewster, a bitterly unhappy farm wife played powerfully by Meredith Inglesby. She has just a moment to delineate half a lifetime of anger and frustration, and she does it perfectly.

Kevin Massey, as Almanzo Wilder, who courts and wins Laura, also stands out as a singer and dancer, which points up one of the show's problems. Touring companies for large shows are expensive, so there is a lot of doubling up by characters who have real parts also taking a turn in the chorus. This adds skill and saves money, but it's awkward when Massey, or Inglesby, or Loprest show up as people who are easily recognizable as their primary characters, who would not be part of the chorus.

Kara Lindsay does fine work as Laura, her tomboyish character shown strongly in her interaction with Pa. Her singing occasionally turned shrill, but that may be caused by the Fox sound system. Melissa Gilbert, long the Laura of the television series, has grown nicely into the part of Ma, who obviously understands her daughter to perfection. Alessa Neeck is fine as Mary Ingalls, though the character is more a plot device than anything else.

Rachel Sheinkin wrote the book, Rachel Portman, influenced by "Paint Your Wagon," composed the music and Donna DiNovelli wrote the lyrics. Adrianne Lobel's minimalist set works satisfactorily and Michele Lynch's choreography, with overtones of "Seven Brides for Seven Brothers," also paid tribute to Lou Brock and other legendary base-stealers.

At the Fox Theatre, through Sunday

-Joe

This Week's Wine: November 25, 2009

 

Well, here we are again --Thanksgiving is upon us and we haven't bought wine yet. The good thing is that all wine stores are open and bulging at the seams with good values at good prices. Another good thing is that the Beaujolais Nouveau hype seems to be mostly behind us. All the stories were mainly arranged for television, which truly buys into hype in a big way, as long as there are pictures to accompany it. But tales of fast planes like the Concorde and speedboats and such, getting the bottles to the restaurants just before midnight, were so much malarkey. The wine has been around for several weeks being distributed to retailers and bars.

There's less of that these days, and wine shops are carrying less of it. Some local outlets have only one or two different winemakers.

Beaujolais Nouveau, by the way, is from the 2009 vintage, so it has no aging of any sort except a few weeks in the bottle. It is made in the Beaujolais region, which borders on Burgundy, and is made from Gamay grapes, or is supposed to be. It is light of body, easy to drink and will not improve with age. Drink it by New Year's Eve, or certainly by George Washington's birthday, or mine, which occurs earlier in the same month. It does go well with turkey, and it is inexpensive. But you probably can get a better wine for the same amount of money.

But for the sake of continuity, I did sample a few. A couple arrived on my doorstep a week before the magic day (the Thursday before Thanksgiving).

Georges Duboeuf makes a Beaujolais Nouveau and a Beaujolais Villages Nouveau, which is a little better and a dollar more expensive ($11 against $10). The Villages has good flavor and balance, pleasant flavor and is a worthy drink. Its cousin has a floral nose, a flavor of strawberry and a short finish.

Joseph Drouhin, a veteran winemaker like Duboeuf, offers a $10 Nouveau that is more reminiscent of cherries than strawberries. It shows medium body, not much finish and some tannins that are not very well balanced. Laboure-Roi, another long-time producer ($11) brings an aroma and a flavor of cherry jello and was sweet on the palate.

All right, so what would I recommend for the Thanksgiving table? My first recommendation is to visit your wine-seller, tell him (or her) how much you want to spent and ask for a French Gamay or a California (or Oregon) Pinot Noir that's on the lighter side. You'll end up with a wine that will be excellent with your meal, and a tab of less than $15.

Something more specific? Well, I tasted an excellent Robert Mondavi Pinot Noir recently, though it did cost $24, and for the white wine fancier, a Mondavi Fume Blanc ($18) that is superior with fowl. A pair of value wines from Bogle, each $11, included a 2007 Zinfandel and a 2006 Petite Sirah. Dry Creek Vineyard has a Sonoma County Heritage Zinfandel, at $18, that will be fine company on the dining room table.

-Joe

The Horse Boy

 

Rowan Isaacson is five years old. He has temper tantrums that last for hours, he is not toilet-trained, he will not communicate, he cannot be reasoned with. He is autistic. But he loves his toy animals and plays constantly with them, especially the horses. And one day his parents, Rupert Isaacson and Kristin Neff, discover that real horses have a calming effect on him. "The Horse Boy" begins.

What's next? Well, Isaacson and Neff and their son go from Texas to Mongolia in search of horses and shamans who--perhaps--can have a calming effect on the boy. It's a fascinating tale of success and failure, of discovering that small improvements can bring huge benefits, of learning how other cultures, like the semi-nomadic people of Mongolia, deal with similar problems.

Isaacson is the primary narrator, and Michel Orion Scott, the director and cinematographer, makes the countryside look beautiful and foreboding, keeps the camera tight on the family and his created a fascinating little film, with discussions from such as Temple Grandin, herself autistic, who has worked with animals all her life, and Simon Baron-Cohen, a psychologist from Cambridge University, who looks eerily like his cousin Sacha.

Watching Rowan and his family interact with the Mongolians,and enjoying Rowan's playing with a little Mongolian boy of similar age are charming. Isaacson nicely works a balance between his intellectual realization of what he is doing and the unrequited love he gives his son, no matter what the cost.

A very interesting movie that asks some very deep questions and which finds some unusual answers.

Opens today at the Tivoli.

-Joe

The Road

 

Cormac McCarthy long has been one of my favorite authors. A dark background was one of the attributes that held my interest, and his Tennessee-set stories like "Suttree" were just as powerful as the Western yarns like "Blood Meridian" and the three books that made up the so-called "Border Trilogy." "No Country for Old Men" was a fine book, a better movie. But I put down "The Road" before I was half finished, and I was strongly tempted to leave the movie version at about the same point.

"The Road" will undoubtedly draw some rave reviews, and I did find Viggo Mortensen's acting to be stunning. But the unrelieved gloom in the vision of a post-Apocalyptic world through the eyes of McCarthy, screenplay writer Joe Penhall and director John Hillcoat was just too depressing for me.

Mortensen and Kodi Smit-McPhee are a father and son in this empty, dying world, filmed in post-Katrina New Orleans and the Gulf Coast, in the abandoned coal mines of Pennsylvania and other equally-gloomy parts of our nation, ravaged by man-made or nature-created disasters. They are traveling somewhere, fueled by force of habit and dreams in technicolor, of the days when the family was complete, with Charlize Theron as wife/mother. They have a revolver with two bullets and Mortensen provides suicide instructions to the boy, who keeps asking his father, "Are we the good guys?" in a search for reinforcement.

And in the end, my problem with "The Road" is that the never-ending quest becomes, well, monotonous, and when you're in the theater, in a seat, there is no worse sin than boredom, and that's where Hillcoat falls short,.

"The Road" opens today at The Tivoli

-Joe

Veritas

 We finally succumbed to a temptation that's been coming to our in-box every week. Very early on Sunday mornings, Veritas in Chesterfield sends out an e-mail list of food available for carryout. Easily reheatable two-portion amounts are sold for about half of what they would cost to eat in the shop's restaurant area. First come, first served, for pickup at Veritas.

We made a salad and dined on pappardelle pasta with a bison Bolognese sauce, each packaged separately, the pasta fresh rather than dried and needing only a fast run through boiling water. But it was the Bolognese that really charmed, properly chunky, with a buttery aroma that was almost sweet and a fine savor on the tongue.

Just e-mail a request to join the mailing list, or drop by when you're in the neighborhood and fill out a card.

Veritas

1722 Clarkson Rd., Chesterfield

636-530-9507

www.veritasgateway.com

Breakfast Sat.-Sun., Lunch Tues.-Sun., Dinner Thurs.-Sat.

Credit cards: Yes

Wheelchair access: Good

Smoking: No

Black Cake

 

Several years ago, re-reading Laurie Colwin's "Home Cooking," I was taken with her description of black cake. It's a Caribbean dessert, traditionally used at times of festivities, a higher form of fruitcake steeped in rum and other ethanol-type liquids. So I tried it. The idea was good, but her relatively vague recipe, which she admitted she hadn't actually made, just obtained from her daughter's baby sitter, just didn't hold together, literally, for me. (Other people, apparently, have done better with it.) But the idea still held promise. I am not one of those people whose idea of a Christmas cake is glaceed cherries and citron. No, indeedy. I have two fruitcake recipes, one dark and the other light, Ava Gardner and Grace Kelly, as it were, and both are tasty, so it wasn't as though I actually needed another one, but it nagged at me. Two years ago, I read Nigella Lawson's discussion of Colwin's cake and her take on the recipe. And last year I came across another recipe, and succumbed to it. I did a little tinkering, using what I had on hand and what I could easily find. And I was blown away when I finally tasted it. Moist and dark and mysterious, fruit and spice and booze. I cannot imagine a kid liking it, as laced with liquor as it is, but it is so worth the effort. (And the cost; this is not an inexpensive project.)

So it's November. I've chopped up the fruit and set it to marinating. It should sit for at least a week. Nigella says one year she began the marinating a month early, and when the time came to bake, she was so tired, she didn't make the cake. It sat 13 months in the liquid and she used it the next year, and it was fine. I don't think it's fair to drop a recipe like this on, say, December 15. So start now.

I've done some subbing from that recipe. The orange peel was awful-smelling and I pitched it, substituting some candied dried pineapple I had on hand. And glad I did, too; the occasional hit of pineapple is fun. I didn't have enough rum so I finished off the amount with some Madeira I had on hand. If you need to substitute in the fruit, nuts, or liquor, just figure on an equal volume. As to chopping: Measure first, then chop. (You know you can always tell by how it's listed - “1 cup nuts, finely chopped” means measure, then chop: “1 cup chopped nuts” means chop before measuring, right?) I use the processor for chopping the almonds, but I'm not crazy about that; it's easy to end up with half ground to flour and another half ranging from too-large-to-barely-nicked. For the rest, I just put on some cooking music and get cracking with a chef's knife and my cutting board, cutting them medium-coarse to just plain medium. I like much of the fruit to just sort of meld into the cake.

The ingredient that puzzles most people is the burnt sugar. There are ways to make it yourself if you look on the internet, but it's easier to buy it. I found it at Global Foods on Kirkwood Road, where it's with the Caribbean foods, a dark brown liquid in a bottle. I also buy many of the fruits there, finding them less expensive and properly fresh.

PANS: I use two loaf pans that measure 8 ½ by 4 ½ inches at the bottom, and 3 inches high. Following Nigella's advice and drawing on my own experiences, I lined each pan with two pieces of paper. I was out of parchment, so I used clean, unprinted grocery bags, cut the strips roughly to size, one to go longways in the pan the other sideways. I made sure I had some overlap at the corners, which was fine. Fortunately, the paper went above the sides of the pan. That turned out to be a good thing, as the batter also rose above the sides. The cakes also are often made in round cake pans; this volume of batter could go into a 9- or 10-inch round pan that's 2 inches tall, and would bake for less time. But I'd still line the pans on the sides and bottom, especially if I were using a springform pan.

UPDATE: So this year, I just made the cake again (it's now the end of November) and there was, somehow, way too much batter for those two pans. So I filled the two I had, popped them in the oven, and got a third, smaller loaf pan that is 6 1/2 inches by 2 3/4 inches. I whacked out a brown paper liner for it and put the rest of the batter in it. (It fit perfectly.) It took an hour and 45 minutes to test done; the other two ran about 2 hours 15 minutes.

I greased the pans in case there was any leakage and then the papers, using Pam spray.

FOR THE FRUIT: 

1 3/4 C. almonds, chopped

1 3/4 c. dried cherries, chopped

1 3/4 c. pitted prunes, chopped

1 3/4 c. raisins, chopped

3/4 c. dried pineapple, chopped

1 c. currants, chopped a little (they're small)

3/4 c. dried cranberries, chopped

1 1/2 c. Port

1/2 c. Madeira (may substitute more port)

1 c. dark rum

Combine nuts, fruit, and liquids in a container that holds at least 3 quarts and has a sealable lid. Cover and store in a cool dark place for at least a week.

FOR THE CAKE:

3 cups all-purpose flour

1 1/2 tsp. salt

1 Tbs. baking powder

1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon

1/2 tsp. ground cloves

1/2 tsp. ground nutmeg

4 sticks (1 lb.) butter, room temperature

2 1/4 c. packed light brown sugar

6 large eggs, room temperature

2 tsp. vanilla extract

3/4 c. burnt sugar

Place an oven in the middle of the oven. Preheat to 300 degrees Fahrenheit.

Cut lining papers for cake pans, allowing for an overlap at the corners and extending an inch or so above the tops. Grease the pans, insert the lining papers, creasing them so they fit in, and grease the papers.

In a large bowl (that isn't the bowl you're going to mix the cake itself in) whisk together the flour, salt, baking powder and spices. In the bowl of the mixer, place the butter and sugar, and beat on medium speed until the mixture is light and fluffy. Scrape down the sides as necessary, and when the mixture is fluffy, scrape down the sides completely, stopping the machine. Return to medium speed and add the eggs, one at a time, beating each one in completely before adding the next. Add the vanilla and drop the speed to low.

Add the flour, the fruit-nut mixture and any remaining liquid and the burnt sugar, and mix just until combined. (I ended up using a large spatula to get everything nicely moistened rather than beating it to death in the ol' KitchenAid.)

Divide between the prepared pans, bang each pan on the counter a couple of times to settle the batter in, and place in oven.

Bake for about 2 hours, until a cake tester comes out clean from the middle. The cake will be very moist.

Allow to cool in the pans for 30 minutes or so, and then remove from the pans and finish cooling on the rack.

When cool, gently peel paper off cake. Brush cake with a little more rum and place in an airtight plastic bag. Can be eaten soon, or left to age up to 2 months.

Makes 2 cakes, each giving about 10-12 slices. (Or more: see added notes above.)

Not a handsome cake, although I can see setting it ablaze a la Christmas pudding and bearing it in to the assemblage with a sprig of holly atop it.

-Ann