St. Louis Eats and Drinks With Joe and Ann Pollack

Carol Schmidt

Carol Schmidt and friends played the Kranzberg Center last night in what she called a cabaret performance, but which felt more like an evening at someone's home, pickin' and cluckin' and having a high old time. At least the musicians did, and they will repeat tonight.

Schmidt and Michele Isam, part of the late, lamented group Jasmine, along with singers Deborah Sharn, Robert Breig and Dionna Raedeke and bassist Ric Vice crowded the small Kranzberg stage, making for awkward entrances and exists. A microphone that would not stay in place upstaged Schmidt in several songs, and some fluffed lines here and there added to the amateurish feel of the evening.

Schmidt sounded a little hoarse at times, but she knows how to deliver a song, and her piano work on "Joie de Vivre," which she called a tribute to Thelonius Monk, was simply wonderful. Vice, on a string bass, added beauty on top of beauty. It was the high spot.

Isam, playing bongos, and a saxophone for one number, was a major, and consistent, distraction. Her almost-violent head and facial movements, often with her eyes closed, demanded attention while Schmidt or another singer was supposedly at center stage. When Isam was singing, everyone else was totally still, offering respectful attention.

Most of the songs were by Schmidt, and she often has a clever touch with lyrics. A George Washington-George Sand reference to flying bugs in a song remembering time in a U. City Loop apartment was delightful, and she continued by describing them as "armed and dangerous" while they headed for a Hill named Blueberry.

Too many songs, however, seemed to need filler material, provided by lyrics of "ooh, ooh, ooh," or "la, la, la," or "woo, woo, woo," or even "yippie-eye-oh-ki-ay," though the latter song offered some delightful references to "jumpers have cables, fish nets have gills."

"Big hair and a big purse make you look thinner," a line that would have been a show-stopper a generation ago, remains solid, even though it's out of date.

Schmidt and Sharn offfered a lovely rendition of "Leo,": with moments of swinging scat here and there, and Isam joined them for some terrific work on a tribute to Harriet Tubman, a major influence on the Underground Railroad that carried slaves to freedom in the days before the Civil War. Schmidt's own tender love song, "Dreaming of Carmel," did justice to that beautiful California oceanside town, and she wrapped the evening with a rollicking rendition of "Seven-Day Kiss," a highlight of the Sweet Honey in the Rock canon.

Carol Schmidt and friends continue today at 8 p.m. at the Kranzberg Center for the Arts

--Joe

Nenette

"Nenette" is a sultry, 40-year-old redhead, certainly worthy of a movie named after her.

            She's an orangutan, the longest-living resident of Paris' Jardin des Plantes, or Zoo, and the subject of a fascinating documentary from director Nicolas Philibert, which opens here today. 

            Philibert, working with cinematographer Katell Djian and editor Lea Masson, skips the lecture part. We hear visitors talk about her; everyone has something to say -- a question, a comment, an "I wonder. . . ." Nenette has lived under observation since 1972. She has outlived three husbands, mothered four children, silently has observed millions more. She lives with one of her sons, takes a daily contraceptive pill. She doesn't get around the way she once did, a victim of age or arthritis, or both.

            Watching her watching us is fascinating. She does not appear to be unhappy, but there's an occasional far-away look in her eye. A fine, non-judgmental movie.

            Nenette opens today at the Plaza Frontenac

--Joe

Sub Zero Vodka Bar

Hard to believe Sub Zero Vodka Bar has been open for seven years in the middle of the Central West End. Harder still to imagine that with a name that doesn't even mention food, its kitchen earns such high marks.

And Ann finds is charmingly humorous that a sushi parlor is operating in a location that in the '70s was a boutique called Wool & Woo, where she bought a pair of sushi earrings that have caused comments ever since. Dining choices are simple: Sub Zero serves booze, sushi and burgers, plus one steak and the requisite appetizers, salads and desserts – in other words, How America Eats Now.

There are two rooms, the bar, which is quite loud most of the time, and the adjacent dining room, which is slightly less loud. But sometimes loud is fine, like late at night when it's nice to prove that this town doesn't turn out the lights after the 10 o'clock news. And late is busy at Sub Zero, where the kitchen doesn't close until 1.

But, no, travel down the tummy trail with us as we lounge and people-watch. Plenty of vodka, of course, both straight and in numerous cocktails, plus a long list of sparkling wine-based drinks like the Bling Bling, made of Grey Goose vodka, black raspberry liqueur and raspberry puree, all topped with a pour of sparkler. Any sweetness was offset by the puree's bitterness, surprisingly refreshing for all its fruitiness. And for the drinker who prefers to keep things simple, there's good bourbon, too.

 

We tried both the traditional and non-traditional sushi, which are separated on the menu. From the traditional side, a salmon skin and avocado roll thrilled, the crunchiness of the crisply cooked salmon skin a perfect contrast to the silky avocado. From across the page, the Kung Fu Vu – no, we don't make these things up, and the sushi chef's name is Vu – gave us a roll with scallops cooked in a panko coating for crisp, plus cucumber and snow crab, with spicy mayonnaise, masago, the tiny orange caviar with added spice, and some sweet brown eel sauce. Pretty fine, although a hit of the hot wasabi paste was a good idea. Regular sushi was simple and traditional, though a spicy, garlicky salmon was a new treat, and while expensive, servings are generous.

Vegetarian pot-stickers were large, but short on filling and significant flavor, and unaided by the listless sauce. The yellowtail-jalapeno intrigued. Yellowtail is a big-flavor fish, one of our favorites on a sushi menu. Here, six slices are laid out, a leaf of cilantro and a thin slice of jalapeno, with seeds, placed atop each, and a dribble of soy sauce added. We split on this one; Joe thought the pepper overwhelmed the fish. Ann wrapped the jalapeno in the slice of fish and mostly was very happy, although to achieve a proper balance of heat, the pepper slices need to be extremely thin. The texture contrast was pleasant, too. On the other hand, $15 for six slices of fish....

And on the burger side, we headed for the green chile cheeseburger. “A coffee rub,” said the menu, as well as a roasted poblano relish, an onion ring, and jalapeno cheese sauce. Not quite what we think of as a green chile cheeseburger, a subject on which we plan further research in the months to come. The basic burger was swell. This kitchen understands rare, always a plus. But the spicing heat was barely lukewarm and the cheese-ness more visual than gustatory. Needs some work, we say. On the other hand, we've been consistently happy with the lamb burger, topped with hummus and cucumber and a little mint, not enough to be disconcerting. A little messy to eat, but fabulously tasty. Onion rings as a side were dry and crisp, and the sweet potato fries, while not very crisp, were mysteriously seasoned and good enough to produce bursts of larceny from across the table, ostensibly to re-assess the unusual combination of sweet and savory.

We somehow became more involved in desserts than we usually do. They are all made in-house, including a large, low-slung slab of gooey butter cake. More gooey than we expected, but killer-sweet in the classic tradition and downright chewy. Carrot cake, about the size of half a paving brick and with a layer of very moist cream cheese frosting poured over it like a glaze, was very moist and quite light. A few raisins here and there, some sugared walnuts for garnish, and some toothpick-sized carrot julienne, too. And then there was the chocolate cake. Tall, moist, elegant and layered with a milk chocolate mousse, it bellowed loudly for some red wine to keep it company. We obliged, and set to work. A relatively unsweet cake, a thin, almost crackly layer of chocolate glaze on the outside, it was utterly magnificent, the best of a delicious trio.

More than happy with service, and the staff knows the menu, both liquids and solids, very well.

Surprisingly, this is not a venue solely for the young and fashionable. We saw plenty of folks who haven't been carded in years, even decades, although one morning, as we were leaving in the wee hours, a sweet young thing who'd been over-served fell upon Joe with delight, exclaiming how hip we were to be there and to be having fun. No sense explaining we've been doing this for a loooooong time.

 

Sub Zero Vodka Bar

308 N. Euclid Ave.

314-367-1200

www.subzerovodkabar.com

Lunch Sat.-Sun, Dinner nightly

Credit cards: Yes

Wheelchair access: Fair

Smoking: No

Entrees: $11-$32 (non-sushi)

This Week's Wine, February 20, 2011

Opening a bottle of wine is a lot like scratching off the scratch-off stuff on a lottery ticket. It carries a feeling of suspense, of the hope that great things are about to happen. They are not always realized, of course, and while millionaire status may never arrive, a good bottle of wine provides pleasure.

And speaking of pleasure, I recently had a delightful experience with two bottles of Joseph Phelps Cabernet Sauvignon. As a wine writer, I occasionally open two, or even three, bottles with a meal, so as to compare and contrast different vintages, the same vintage from different California counties and things like that.

The Phelps people make outstanding wine. Their best usually carries the Insignia label, and I have a bottle waiting patiently to be tasted next month. But I opened a pair of the Phelps Napa Cabernet Sauvignon recently, one from 2006, one from 2007, and I was struck by what a difference a year makes. Each wine retails for about $50. The '07 showed good plummy aroma and pleasant berry overtones on the palate. But it was hard, with tannin that interfered with the rich Cab flavors, and a relatively short finish. On the other hand, the '06 had used that extra year to great results. The aroma was a little bigger, but the flavor truly showed the benefit of age. The wine was big, filling the mouth with berry and cassis notes, and its richness hung around in a lovely, long finish. A sheer delight. A wonderful companion to rare roast beef, and don't open the '07 for a year or so.

* * * *

ANOTHER FINE TASTING: Zaca Mesa, the Santa Barbara County winemaker, is big on Rhone varieties, and a pair from the Santa Ynez Valley are superior representatives of the 2007 vintage. The Z cuvee ($20) is a blend of Grenache (52 percent), Mourvedre (31) and Syrah (12), a classic Rhone blend; the Syrah ($25) a powerful example of what a single grape beings to the bottle. The spring and early summer were cool, and harvest began about four weeks later than usual.

Both are still rather young, so tannins are strong, especially in the latter. The aroma sings of various types of berries and a little tobacco, the palate is rich with blackberries, the finish lengthy. The blend covers some of the tannin, and its dark color comes from the Mourvedre, which also adds a note of pepper on the tongue. The Grenache acts to lighten the body, as compared to the heavier Syrah, and it brings red raspberry to the flavor palate, and I preferred it to the Syrah. These wines are perfect with a rack of lamb, but they do well with a range of foods.

* * * *

AND NAPA MAKES THREE: Napa Cellars makes a Reserve Chardonnay ($35) from grapes grown in the Mt. Veeder APA, one of the smallest appellations at only five square miles. The wine, however, is a delight. Crisp and elegant, it leaves a hint of sparkle on the tongue and provides a finish unusually long for the wine. The "ordinary" Chardonnay, from other Napa Valley vineyards, is tasty and easy on the palate, just with a slightly shorter finish. Both pleasant as aperitifs, or with broiled chicken or scallops.

* * * *

HERE'S TO BEER: I like beer, but I drank so much of it in my college days and my softball days that I simply had to put this vice behind me for a while. But the growth of craft beers and different styles brought me back into the arena. For a period of my life, I spent summers in the Chicago area, and I struck up a friendship with Goose Island beers, partly because the brewery also housed a theater, so I could deal with several interests in one visit.

But the HandleBar, a bicycle-oriented bar in the Grove at 4127 Manchester Ave., did a beer-and-food dinner recently and the fact that it involved Goose Island beers piqued my curiosity. Jonathan Jones and Anna Sidel, who describe themselves as "kitchen gurus," prepared three pizzas and other courses to accompany seven different Goose Island products, and everything worked nicely.

I like the light feeling of hefeveisen, or wheat beer, so the Urban wheat ale got things off to a good start. We went on to IPA white cheddar soup with Honker's Ale, a bitter that I thought was a little too strong for the soup, but all the other pairings went smoothly. Spinach salad with walnuts and roasted beets was joined by Maltilda, a Belgian-style pale ale, a nice complement.

Three pizzas--roasted winter vegetables and fontina; shrimp, ricotta, feta and tomato sauce; andpancetta, goat cheese and caramelized onions--were accompanied by, respectively, English-style Mild Winter Ale brewed with rye; Sofie, a Belgian-style farmhouse ale; and Pepe Nero, a farmhouse ale brewed with black peppercorns. Tasty, well-balanced pizza, smooth, tasty ales.

Dessert involved some delicious, home-made, winter-spiced thin cookies, crisp and small with a hint of ginger and molasses. Pere Jacques, a dark Belgian-style dubbel, balanced it perfectly.

* * * *

CURTAIN CALL AT THE CHASE: The annual winter wine-tasting extravaganza to benefit the Repertory Theatre of St. Louis certainly drew a lot of people to the Chase-Park Plaza the last weekend of January. Crowds like those make it difficult to do much serious tasting. There is so much wine, and so many people to chat with, and so much conversation that it's difficult to concentrate. And after a while, of course, the palate gets so over-stimulated that fatigue sets in and judgment steps away.

My longest visit was with the wines of Nicholson Jones, made by Julien Fayard, who also makes wine for his own label, Azur. Fayard is from Provence, the French region that borders on the Mediterranean, probably my favorite place on Earth. He showed two 2009 Azur wines, a Rose and a Sauvignon Blanc. The Rose brought memories of lunches in Riviera cafes, looking out to sea. Fayard did not list the grapes, but it tasted like Grenache, light and fruity, with some other Provencal grapes, like Cabernet Franc, Mourvedre or Syrah, added to the blend. The 100 percent Sauvignon had crisp, citrus flavors.

The Nicholson Jones label, simple and rather austere, covers some rich, elegant red wines, priced under $30 a bottle with an exception for the 100 percent Cabernet Sauvignon from the Clare Luce Abbey Vineyards in the Napa Valley. Priced at about $37, it's a big, rich Cab with all the hearty flavor one expects.

Fayard also makes Provencal blends in the Cellar Arts series, like the '06 Napa Cuvee, which includes Petit Verdot (27 percent), Cabernet Sauvignon (25), Syrah (25) and Merlot (23). The '07, due for release next month, starts with Syrah (25), then involves Cabernet Sauvignon (22), Cabernet Franc (19), Petit Verdot (18) and Merlot (16). It's a little bolder, with strong blackberry overtones. He also has a delicious Rutherford Reserve, a 52-48 blend of Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot.

And as I wandered and tasted, I was much impressed with the Taittinger Champagne, the Cain Five red blend, the Pinot Noir from Freestone, Ridge's offerings of its Montebello and Lytton Springs wines and a Cask Cabernet from Rubicon.

It was a worthy event, staged nicely for a delightful afternoon.

--Joe

 

Ruined

Lynn Nottage's language is both simple and brutal, but the two words, individually, deliver a far greater impact than just saying "brutally simple." Her play, "Ruined," now at the Grandel Theatre in a powerful production by the Black Rep, is a keening, passionate scream at the world to awaken those who can save women from the brutalities inflicted on them every day. It is even more important today, as rape is being used as a weapon of war.

Nottage's play, which won the Pulitzer Prize for drama two years ago, shows a heritage of Bertolt Brecht's "Mother Courage and Her Children," a searing tale of women and children trying to escape from war. Mother Courage, a seller of food, tries fiercely to remain neutral, alienating both sides instead of neither. The play is set in the17th century, during the Thirty Years' War, but was written in 1939, as Europe was on the brink of World War II.

Mama Nadi (a superb Andrea Frye) runs a bar and brothel in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, selling whiskey and beer, renting her girls, not caring what her customers believe but satisfying their earthly tastes. Her No. 1 girl is Josephine, played with a hard, brittle, unloving sexiness by Patrice McClain, who drinks too much and winds up (or whines up) talking about how her father was a chief.

Christian (exciting work from J Samuel Davis, as always), a salesman and friend, comes to call one day and along with the chocolates, tampons, beer and other items he carries, he brings two young, disheveled, frightened girls, Salima (Sharisa Whatley) and Sophie (Evann Jones). It's okay to put Salima to work, but Sophie needs help. Raped with a bayonet, she can no longer provide sex (she's "Ruined," or so the title of the play informs us).

The play also has a Saroyan-esque character in Mr. Harari (a charming Joe Hanrahan), who drinks and philosophizes. Soldiers come and go, always told to check their bullets at the bar, and Mama tries to keep a grip on everything. But it's slipping and she knows it.

All four of the women are splendid, but Frye's Mama is a commanding presence and Jones' growth as Sophie is heart-warming.

The soldiers are proper bullies, men whose manhood lies in the size of their guns, and Erik Kilpatrick stands out as Commander Osembenga, the biggest of the bullies. Chauncy Thomas goes slightly over the top, but is impressive as Fortune, Salima's husband who wants her to come home. Ron Himes' direction is as fierce as Nottage's play, and it provides a major emotional experience. It isn't pleasant, but it's necessary, like strong medicine.

Regina Garcia's set gives the tawdry, slightly seedy look of a bar somewhere close to the end of the world, and Daryl Harris' costumes and Kathy Perkins' lights are right. Robin Wetherall did fine work with the sound design, which also covered the live music, James Belk on percussion and Dennis Brock on guitar.

"Ruined" is an explosive play, a startling look at a difficult subject.

Ruined, a production of the St. Louis Black Repertory Company, is on stage at the Grandel Theatre through March 6

--Joe

Cedar Rapids

It's rude, crude, tasteless and vulgar. It's also funny, even hilarious if you like rude, crude, tasteless and vulgar humor.

"Cedar Rapids," opening today, brings back memories of the films of people like Preston Sturges, though the language has progressed (or regressed?) nearly70 years. Despite that, and its often-casual attitude toward sexual fidelity, director Miguel Arteta has put together a movie with an optimistic ending and considerable sensitivity toward people who act like real people, with all their attendant problems and changes. I enjoyed it.

Ed Helms, one of the bachelor-party buddies of "Hangover," and a regular on "The Office," on television, is a sheer delight as Tim Lippe, a 34-year-old insurance salesman from Brown Valley, Wis. One of his parents died when he was a baby, the other when he was in high school, but others have provided a wide range of security. Bill Krogstad (a terrific Stephen Root) has provided work and some father-style guidance, and Macy Vanderhei (nifty work from Sigourney Weaver), his seventh-grade teacher, has guided him down the Primrose Path to sexual awareness. Tim says they're "pre-engaged," but she isn't having any. The relationship she has is exactly the one she wants.

Tim is sent to a regional insurance convention in the movie's tittle town, told by Krogstad that he is to bring back "the coveted two-diamond award" for the agency, and also to avoid Dean Ziegler, who will poach his clients while leading him astray. Tim takes his first airplane ride, then meets Bree, his first play-for-pay girl (the eminently delightful dumpling, Alia Shawkat), as he enters the hotel. He thinks she represents the Welcome Wagon. In the room, he discovers he's sharing it with an African-American, Ron (Isiah Whitlock Jr., a perfect straight man by several definitions) and, of course, Dean Ziegler (the scenery-chewing, scene-stealing John C. Reilly).

They try to teach him to drink, getting as far as cream sherry, and then he meets Joan Ostrowski-Fox (a remarkable Anne Heche), who is an ardent believer in the theory that what happens in Cedar Rapids remains in Cedar Rapids.

But Phil Johnston's screenplay is not all about sex, drinking and the hotel swimming pool ("I think I'm in Barbados," yells Tim as he gets a big whiff of chlorine). Johnston and director Arteta get serious and develop conscience and courage for Tim and Dean. Both stand up for what is right, even while Dean continues his career run toward the Debauchery Hall of Fame, and holds the door open for Tim.

Of course, in a salute to Iowa for its progressive social stance, there's a gay wedding at the hotel, and that scene may be a thank-you to the state for its steps away from hypocrisy and toward real freedom for all. Given Hollywood reasoning, look to our neighbor to the north to pick up more movie income for that reason.

Cedar Rapids opens today

--Joe

Sirens

Sirens don't always precede fire engines. Once upon a time, according to Greek and Roman story-tellers, they were seductive damsels whose singing was more magnetic than that of Justin Bieber and Frank Sinatra combined. Their songs caused ships to crash into islands, dooming sailors to drown in the azure blue waters of the Mediterranean Sea. (I know the program says Caribbean, but what's a few thousand miles of azure water between friends.)

"Sirens," the play, by Debrah Zoe Laufer which treats ancient history as only a few years earlier than modern history, opened at the New Jewish Theatre last night, with a sparkling performance from Leah Berry in three separate, disconnected roles, and the fine, nuanced work we've come to expect from Kari Ely and Bobby Miller. And don't forget John Kinney as Richard, brilliant casting by an uncredited person (NJT's artistic director Kathleen Sitzer? Director Tom Martin?) that creates one person in Ely's eyes and another in the audiences'.

Miller, as Sam, and Ely, as Rose Adelle, have been married for 25 years, and the magic that once fueled the marriage is long past its expiration date. Many years ago, he wrote a song about her that became such a hit that both Sinatra and Bieber must have recorded it. It has supported them through all the years while they lost the ability to support one another. When Rose discovers that Sam has discovered Facebook, and what look like snake skin boots, and is playing Scrabble and drinking coffee with many young women, a crisis is reached. Miller and Ely are excellent as two people who do love each other, but have become lazy about it. They bicker so well they might be married to one another.

"We'll go on a cruise," she decides, which introduces Berry as a new travel agent.

On the ship, they continue bickering about everything, but as they stand at the rail one night, Sam hears music and dives overboard, to awaken on a teeny-tiny island populated by Berry, a nameless but buxom young woman playing with a hand-held solitaire game. She shamelessly gloats about winning, and just as shamelessly lures people to their death, and she makes it funny. Some of Laufer's wittiest writing comes through as Miller and Berry hold the play's middle section together.

But Laufer loses some of her wit and some of her timing in the final third. The first couple of times Kinney stretches "Long Island," it's pretty funny, but repetition dulls it. At 90 minutes, "Siren" is too long to go without intermission, but not long enough to deliver two normal acts around one. The decision to stage it in the round works almost satisfactorily, but it means than an actor's back is always to a quarter of the audience, Set changes either take too long or actors are returning to the stage too soon, leaving some awkward moments. Teresa Doggett's costumes are good, except for Ely's red dress. The fact that it's ugly, and is a tight fit, brings humor, but the exposed black underwear distracts and spoils the effect.

There are good lines, if not quite enough of them. There's good acting from all hands, but the pacing is a little choppy.

Sirens, a production by the New Jewish Theatre, will be on stage through March 6

--Joe

Hot Stuff: The Nightcap

We've still got a fair amount of winter to go, and sometimes when we come out of...oh, one of the theaters in Grand Center, perhaps, we want a nightcap. Irish coffee is often just the thing. And we found a first-rate one. Where? We wrote about it in St. Louis Magazine here.

Pi CWE: Brunch

Euclid Avenue in the Central West End is, for brunch, the St. Louis equivalent of New York's Upper West Side. You can't swing a purse without hitting a diner, and as the dandelions grow, so will the crowds. Even business at breakfast spots seems to be picking up again. But we'd never thought of Pi as a brunch spot.

Pi is open late enough that it sometimes serves as an after-theater destination for us if the parking gods are cooperative. We find the very tasty thin-crust pizza much closer to the cracker-type that rigid St. Louisans criticize when talking about local specialty pizzas. They believe there's only One Right Way to make pizza; we like many styles, shapes, fillings and crusts. And that's okay, because there are two things we don't argue about; the other is barbecue.

We'd heard about the every-morning coffee bar at Pi, but it wasn't until our last visit that we noticed, in small type at the bottom of the menu, that any deep-dish pizza can be had as breakfast pizza after the 11 a.m. opening of the rest of the house. Breakfast pizza, available every day, means scrambled eggs instead of tomato sauce. With curiosity a pre-requisite for a job like ours, we stopped by--on a Sunday morning, as it happened.

We arrived just before 11, wandered to the breakfast bar for coffee and to try a chocolate croissant. Besides pastries, there are waffles and the breakfast pi of the day, available by the slice. There's granola, too, leading us to think this would be a good quiet spot to munch and read on weekday mornings. The coffee and croissant, warmed and delicious, were delivered to our table, a pleasant policy we wish more counter-order spots would adopt. So we sat in a corner with a fine view of the Euclid-Maryland intersection and watched the world go by, overseen by the statue of T. S. Eliot in front of Left Bank Books, and by the ghost of Lady Charles, a long-time chef whose ashes were symbolically tossed at the middle of the intersection one dark night.

We've become quite taken with Pi's blazed-wing appetizer, which are dusted in a crunchy, spicy coating and baked, but they often take longer to cook than some of the pies. So we let the croissant act as a first course and began the debate over the next one. We hesitated over the Western Addition, offering mozzarella, spinach with ricotta and feta, mushrooms, onions and garlic. Ultimately, though, the lure of the pig was too much and went with the Mission, combining mozzarella, Berkshire pig sausage, red onion, anchovies, and red pepper flakes. It was a good decision, the anchovies giving little hits of salt every now and then, the mellow sausage judiciously used. The red pepper flakes were scarcely noticeable, for those who are heat-reluctant. It's a fine take on deep-dish pizza, and the egg filling, less moist than the usual tomato sauce, kept the crust crisp.

 

We were left musing about other potential combinations like sundried tomatoes, bacon and banana peppers. Next time....

Apple pi has been the house dessert since the first Pi opened, and despite the jokey title, this is good stuff, nice tart apples that don't turn to mush, plenty of caramel, and rich enough that two can share. Don't miss unless you're stuffed.

Good natured (and, we suspected, rather caffeinated) service and a nice easy-going weekend morning pace. But be warned: No reservations. Period.

 

Pi

400 N. Euclid Ave.

314-367-4300

www.restaurantpi.com

 

Breakfast, Lunch & Dinner daily

Credit cards: Yes

Wheelchair access: Good

Smoking: No

Entrees: $12-$23

Round and Round the Garden

With a weekend of gloom, doom and depraved love stories covering local stages like a blanket of blizzard, "Round and Round the Garden," strong on flowers, foolishness and the wit of Alan Ayckbourn, brought to the Black Cat Theatre on Sunday the same feeling that the sunshine and balmy temperatures provided for the rest of the city.

"Garden," written in 1973, is one of three plays set over the same weekend with the overall title, "The Norman Conquests," in honor of the lead character, Norman. An assistant librarian in a small English town, he is convinced he is God's gift to women and moves on them with the rapidity of a machine gun delivering bullets. They can be produced as one play over three performances or as separate plays, have the same cast of six and are set in the dining room, the living room and the garden, respectively.

It's the home of a never-seen invalid, being taken care of by Annie (Rachel Hartmann), who wants a weekend off to have an assignation with Norman (Mark Kelley). Annie's sister, Sara (Christina Rios) and her husband, Reg (Scott Sears) will take care of Mum for the weekend. Also involved are Tom (Justin Ivan Brown), a veterinarian and a goofus who thinks he loves Annie but isn't sure, and Ruth (Ellie Schwetye), sister to Annie and Sara -- and wife to Norman.

The production, nicely directed by Edie Avioli, suffers primarily from the fac t that most of the actors are too young to be as experienced in life as the script demands. Sears, the bumbling, fumbling, nearly middle-aged man, is excellent, playing confusion with the right style. Kelley comes close to carrying off the role of Norman as a naive deceiver, and Schwetye is charmingly sardonic and ruefully accepting of her husband. "Been there, done that, have the T-shirt," could be her motto.

Brown is delightful as Tom, who couldn't spell "cat" if you spotted him the first two letters, but Hartmann and Rios fall short, the former because of her youth, the latter because she overacts to a fare-thee-well. Todd Schafer's set is splendid, his lighting good, and Bonnie Kruger's costumes are satisfactory.

Round and Round the Garden, by Alan Ayckbourn, is on stage at the Black Cat Theatre through Feb. 26

--Joe