St. Louis Eats and Drinks With Joe and Ann Pollack

New Orleans: The Old Coffee Pot

 

Like many cities where leisure is an art, New Orleans is capable of lifting breakfast to a higher standard. Enough so, in fact, that we think it wasteful to stay at a place that includes breakfast in the price of a room. Coffee, maybe, before setting foot on the pavement, but to forego the pleasures of the hunt and settle for stale bagels and rubbery eggs or some unknown casserole of a B&B's choice is wasting a chance at some of America's most singular food.

And so the first morning we were in town, we headed for a spot that's been feeding its guests since 1894, long before Preservation Hall, its neighbor, was packing them in. As recently as 20 years ago, it somehow managed to stay off the tourists' eating path, feeding mostly locals, especially in the mornings, but now is busier, its tiny patio and street-front dining room often marked by a line of waiting tummies and their managers.

The Old Coffee Pot, which some may remember as Maxcy's Coffee Pot, or just The Coffee Pot, serves breakfast until “at least” (their phrase) 2 p.m. every day. Not surprisingly, drinks like Bloody Marys are available – we didn't try them but are told that they're very spicy, no surprise in this town. The best tables are those by the tall front windows, providing views of the passing scene on the street as well as the dining room with its eccentric shabby-chic chandelier.

It's another menu filled with difficult decisions, like wavering on a decision between a Rockefeller omelet with spinach and oysters or the eggs Conti. The latter won, simply because finding chicken livers on a breakfast menu is something Joe can almost never resist. The basics are poached eggs sitting on some excellent biscuits, sauced with browned chicken livers in a white wine sauce with green onions and a little suspicion of garlic. Tender livers, perfectly poached eggs, and a marvelous sauce produced chortles of delight. Fried potatoes, just right in terms of softness and seasoning, did their part.

If there are other places in the Quarter, or indeed, in the city, that offer calas, we're not aware of it. Calas (pronounced KAL-luhs) are fritters made from leftover rice, and are a dish that goes back to the early 19th century; some authorities say they came from Africa. Ladies of color sold them, freshly fried, from baskets, part of the vigorous flow of life on the streets of New Orleans then. If they sound intriguing, Google them; you'll get a bevy of recipes and history. They arrived about the size of a baseball, with syrup alongside, as well as a generous serving of grits. We don't use the syrup; it's superfluous, and overwhelms the delicate, slightly spicy flavor of the crunchy exterior and delicate interior. They're heavier than a doughnut, not so fluffy, substantial enough that two of them are a reasonable entree. Why the grits? Dunno. Seems like an illogical pairing of two starches to us, but we're not Yats, as the locals are sometimes called.

Servers seem the sort who've been there for ages, greeting their regulars, juggling the crowds with aplomb unless a hangover-cranky guest needs to be redirected, and presiding over a room where everyone seems to be having a good time. Refills of the good coffee are frequent. Just what we needed.

The Old Coffee Pot

714 Rue St. Peter's, New Orleans

504-524-3500

Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner daily

Credit cards: Yes

Wheelchair access: Patio only

Smoking: Patio only

Entrees: $8-$16

Camellia Grill, New Orleans

 

After Katrina, the restaurant business in New Orleans was closely watched by outsiders as a sign of things returning to – well, the new normal. Surprisingly, the opening, but not until last spring, that provided us with cheer-up-we're-getting-there was not one of the great old Quarter divas or an out-of-the-way seafood dive. It was the Camellia Grill.

Lots of visitors don't know about the Camellia. But if you take a ride on the St. Charles Avenue streetcar, and you certainly should, where the car makes a 90-degree right turn as it goes far uptown, is the neighborhood known as Riverbend, and there's the Camellia, right across the street from the stop. The white-pillared facade is the entrance to a diner with a maitre'd and linen napkins. The napkins are real, the guy in the golf shirt merely keeps order and shows folks which counter seats to take. Yes, it's counter service and carry-out only, complete with patter from servers like Melvin, who handled our peninsula of stools.

There's often a line, with a mixture of locals and tourists, who spin yarns to amuse their groups about visits when they were young and ate here as part of a night (or day) of bar-hopping. Behind us in line on this school holiday morning were a mother and teenaged daughter, daughter wearing a plaid skirt and a white blouse with an embroidered badge. And saddle shoes, the real thing. After a while, Ann said with a grin, “So, tell me about the shoes. Uniform code or your idea?”

“Uniform code,” replied the girl, “and they have to be polished just so. They're real strict about it.” So a chat began about school uniforms after Ann said that lots of kids in St. Louis have them, too. The line moved, and we continued the chat while as we sat on the banquettes inside, among the we'll-be-seated-next. And at some point Mom said, “Oh, down here the high school is a big thing. Grown people say to each other 'Where did you go to high school?'”

So take comfort. St. Louis is not the only place in the world where that's a standard inquiry. .

Melvin (that's him on the lower left hand corner of the website – which, we'd add, is not complete) served us what the menu calls the M. Shwartz chili omelet. They've just added hash browns as an option, and we went that way rather than the usual fries that come with it. Huge, fluffy omelet, a tasty version of this favorite, with hash browns that are shredded, but just right for soaking up chili. And then he brought forth one of the house specialties, the pecan waffle, and some bacon. The choice of syrup was either maple or cane, which is made from sugar cane, another very Louisiana product. No question about what to choose here; the cane is simple and sweet, a good match for the pecans.

The coffee is good for diner coffee, but the one thing that is mandatory for Ann on every trip to the Camellia is a chocolate freeze. Maybe not traditional for breakfast but absolutely necessary.

The line moves surprisingly quickly, as do the cooks. And despite the always-gloppy waffle iron, a trip to the rear offered a view of a prep kitchen that absolutely gleamed.

Friday and Saturday nights until 2 a.m.; other nights until midnight

Camellia Grill

626 S. Carrollton Ave., New Orleans

504-309-2679

www.camelliagrill.net 

Breakfast, Lunch & Dinner daily

Credit cards: Yes

Wheelchair access: Difficult

Smoking: No

Gulfport, MS

 Years ago, Ann was in Gulfport, Miss., with a friend who had grown up in what was then Yugoslavia. Friend surveyed the long empty stretches of sunny beach and gentle surf, and remarked, “You know, in Europe, a beach like this would be full of people. What's wrong with you Americans?”

Well, that's one thing that hasn't changed on the Mississippi Gulf Coast since Katrina. The beaches are still pretty empty. But lots of things are humming again. We happened to be there during the annual Cruisin The Coast  week, when more than 4500 remember-when cars were swarming. (Check the website for photos; it's a gas, if you'll excuse the expression.) People there certainly seem eager to receive visitors again, although Gulfport has instituted a city-wide smoking ban in its restaurants, perhaps thinking that the family trade was more important than that offered by hard-core smokers. In the four years since Katrina, city business owners have worked hard to bring things back, and in a brief visit, we found two locally-owned restaurants that charmed.

Located in a great old one-time bank building in downtown Gulfport on U.S. 49, a block from its intersection with U.S. 90, the road along the Gulf of Mexico, the Half Shell Oyster House is dark and cool inside, a multilevel re-fitting of the building that's left it feeling almost sanctuary-like. This time of year, we were about the only non-locals there, and the servers were pleasant and obliging in our oyster-driven urges.

These are Louisiana oysters, mild and easier for a rookie than those from colder waters, where they acquire flavors that can be deeply mineral-saline in flavor. On the half-shell, they were unusually large and extremely fresh. And the Half Shell is not just for raw oysters, either; we loved the Bienvilles, topped with a creamy sauce studded with small chunks of seafood, the flavors dancing together. And the barbequed oysters, cooked over an open flame and basted with a garlicky butter sauce, were shockingly good. The version described as charbroiled was milder, but still good. We also sampled some Rockefellers, whose seasoned spinach topping was made creamy with cream cheese. They were very good, but not as remarkable as the Bienvilles.

A portobello mushroom stuffed with crab was mostly crab, not bread crumbs, a good take on deviled crab, very satisfying. A little meat? Voodoo chicken wings were large, moist and meaty, but the voodoo sauce was more sweet than spicy, and needed a nice dribble of Crystal Hot Sauce to top 'em off.

The Half Shell's bread pudding, a dessert that has spread across the Gulf Coast from New Orleans, is made from cinnamon rolls and dried cranberries, served in a martini glass.

Half Shell Oyster Bar

1300 13th St. (U.S. 49), Gulfport, MS

228-867-7001

 www.halfshelloysterhouse.com

Lunch & Dinner daily

Credit cards: Yes

Wheelchair access: Fair

Smoking: No

Entrees: $13-$22

 

Farther east on Highway 90 is the White Cap Seafood Restaurant, from the Lizana family that's had it since the 1920's. The website shows the re-building process – this is not the original location – but unfortunately lacks a link to their menu. It's another place that's popular with the locals, and the food is simple, rather than fancy. In fact, unless it's a time of year when things are dead quiet, a reservation may be a good idea.

The large, busy dining room overlooks the Gulf, and there's an aquarium and separate bar to occupy those waiting for a table. Servers are young but quick, and know their jobs and the menu equally well.

The clear specialty is fried seafood, so we headed mostly in that direction. Everything arrived, hot, fresh, crisp and greaseless. The platter included oysters, shrimp, crab claws, scallops, catfish, which has become a frequent visitor to Mississippi restaurant menus, and some (un-fried) deviled crab. The seafood wasn't overcooked, still moist and juicy under the cornmeal crust. Hush puppies, of course, fries and an unremarkable salad came alongside, but it was the seafood that pleased.

We also tried a couple of softshell crabs, which were particularly good, the crust not overwhelming the delicate flesh inside. For sides, the parsley potatoes and slaw were both winners. The potatoes were sauced with a generous amount of butter and garlic as well as the parsley, adding up to a memorable version of a seemingly simple dish. Even the slaw veered off the usual paths, with an unidentifiable tanginess that pleased.

For dessert, “Chef's Daily Selection” says the menu. That night, it was a bread pudding with a coffee caramel sauce, moist and warm.

White Cap Seafood Restaurant

560 Beach Drive (U.S. 90), Gulfport, MS

228-604-4444

http://www. coastseafood.com/whitecap.html

Lunch & Dinner Tues.-Sun.

Credit cards: Yes

Wheelchair access: Good

Smoking: No

Entrees: $12-$22

 

Stops Off I-55 Heading South

 

Memphis is one of those places that claims – early and often – that its barbecue is superior to all others. So why are we heralding Pollard's, a tiny and relatively obscure takeout spot in its southern suburbs? Because the meal was excellent enough to make the claim seem reasonable, and the experience was improved by delightful servers. Besides, it's within a couple of blocks of an exit from I-55, heading toward New Orleans and the Mississippi Gulf Coast.

The primary focus of the wall-mounted menu is sandwiches, although most items are also available as plates. In addition, if you're traveling with young ones who are gastronomically conservative, there are hamburgers and hot dogs.

Pollard's is heaven (or hell) for the impulsive. Intending to eat lightly (Ha! – how foolish of us!) we staggered out up with a rib tip sandwich and a smoked sausage sandwich, a tamale, a sack of cracklings and a fried pie. Plus drinks.

Ann adores rib tips, whose abundance of exterior surfaces and chewy bits is just made for gnawing. Unlike most rib tip sandwiches, this was far more than just some tips plopped across a slice or two of white bread. It was a real sandwich. When the friendly, smiling woman behind the counter asked, “Slaw?” as though most folks had it that way, Ann unhesitatingly said yes. Joe went through the same routine with the sausage. Turns out she didn't mean slaw with the sandwiches, she meant on, in the Memphis manner, and we missed the cue.

The rib tip was a real sandwich, tightly wrapped in paper. The first bites caused unmuffled moans of pleasure, even though we were standing in the parking lot.

Standing in the parking lot? We said it was takeout, right? It was near two o'clock, so the lot was almost empty, and given our tendency to drop, spill, leak and otherwise create messes, there was no way we were going to eat barbecue inside a car. Thankfully, it was a mild, windless day.

Smoky-sweet-meaty-chewy-tender, the ribs simply jumped into the mouth. Yes, it called for some picking around bones and discarding them, but ribs involve bones, like fish, so deal with it. The slaw, a lot of it, was indeed on the sandwich, making the wrapper imperative and a leaning-over posture extremely necessary while eating. When given a choice of spicing, we'd both asked for hot, but this wasn't fire-laden, just a first-rate balance of lovely tender meat, crunch from the cabbage, and great smoke and spice. The large and coarsely ground sausage was firm, rather than mushy, quite peppery and equally, joyously messy to eat.

The spiciest item was the tamale, something that has become almost a gustatory tradition in the South, either as lunch items or as first courses at places from neighborhood diners to white-linen restaurants. This one was a splendid kick-off to lunch.

And then there were the cracklings, an adventure begun when we noticed brown bags sitting quietly on the counter, a few grease spots adding a dappling effect. Someone asked, the charming server grinned and spoke and we shrieked softly. These were real chicharrones, pig skin and fat deep fried until dry and crisp. Pork skins that come out of cellophane bags are wimpy. Compared to these large, irregular pieces, rich and very crunchy and enough to give coronary artery disease to a brace of dieticians or even heart surgeons, those don't even deserve the name. Showing rare self-control, we made some of them last until the following day.

Our still-warm fried pie, available that day as apple or peach, also was tidily wrapped, to be torn open and sighed over. The shortbread-type crust crumbled a little, and it shed the cinnamon-sugar that was drifted across one side. The peach filling was thick and flavorful, with a texture that indicated home-preserved rather than store-bought.

Pollard's is not for everyone. It's spanking clean, but there are no tables and only a couple of chairs. Travelers should be prepared to eat elsewhere, perhaps at the next highway rest stop. However, it's easy to find, just north of the Mississippi state line at Exit 2 of I-55, whose exist sign says Hwy. 175, E. Shelby Drive and E. Whitehaven Capleville Rd. Take the exit that goes east, (if you're heading south, Pollard's is on the left side of the interstate). The first street that intersects after the service road is Boeingshire; turn left and you'll immediately see it in a newer strip mall.

But it'd be worth it if it were a dozen miles off the road.

Pollard's Bar-BQ

4637 Boeingshire Drive, Memphis TN

901-398-2987

Lunch & Dinner Mon.-Sat.

Credit cards: Yes

Wheelchair access: Fair

Smoking: No

Entrees: $5-$11

Considerably farther south on I-55, about 40 miles from Louisiana, we found more delicious food close to the highway. Barbecue and other southern cooking is on hand at Hal's, one of three restaurants owned by the same family in a new and very tidy little mall just off the highway in Brookhaven, MS. Open for lunch and dinner every day (but closed from 3 to 5 p.m), there are tables, chairs and booths in front of an immense blackboard and a steam table full of side dishes. Not all the sides sit there, however. The cooks at Hal's have enough respect for their work and their customers to cook fried items to order. So dishes like tomatoes, okra and potatoes arrive a few minutes later, carried to the table by a friendly young server and simply brimming with flavor, like our onion rings and Joe's fried green tomatoes, which he swears are the best he's ever tasted.

We tried pulled pork, smoky and tender with a sweet, slightly hot sauce, a country fried steak, the real thing, not one of those hamburger patties made by a machine, and several sides. Both the onions, rings and smaller pieces, and the three large slices of green tomato, wore a carefully-seasoned cornmeal batter, and were drained within an inch of their lives, arriving not only greaseless but piping hot. Baked beans, seasoned with some of the pork, were sweet and smoky, and a potato salad tasted homemade, tangy rather than sweet. (A mixed forkful was a great combination.) Macaroni and cheese was a real winner, with plenty of cheese all the way through, not just the on-top style that occurs distressingly often. Creamy coleslaw and some delicious but slightly heavy cornbread finished things off.

No room for dessert after these two meat-and-threes, each of which cost us $6.50, the lunch price every day but Saturday. Lots of other options, from hamburgers to piles of handcut fries topped with brisket and pepper jack cheese and on to pineapple upside down cake. Order and pay at the counter, take your plate, and stuff yourself until they bring the cooked-to-order things, at which point you become as over-stuffed as Aunt Sadie's sofa.

Take exit #40 from Interstate 55, and turn eastward. Hal's is on the right almost as soon as you exit, along with his siblings Broma's and Mitchell's.

Hal's BBQ

1203 Hamton Drive, Brookdale, MS

601-823-2200

Lunch and Dinner daily

Credit cards: Yes

Wheelchair access: Good

Smoking: No

Entrees: $5-$18

Grapevine Grill

Just where is Coffman, Missouri? Well, look between Farmington and Ste. Genevieve on a state road that runs almost parallel to State Highway 32. Ann can say firmly that there's never been a restaurant there before; a hundred years ago, her grandmother was a little girl playing in the valley that spreads out from the tasting room and restaurant at Chaumette Winery and Vineyards. It appears, however, that the community now has a fine opportunityto make up for diners' lost time, even if not at wide-spot-in-the-road prices.

The Grapevine Grill is the proper name of the restaurant at Chaumette, and the kitchen is headed up by Adam Lambay, who's cooked at a number of solid St. Louis restaurants like Portabella, Cafe Mira and India's Rasoi. The main public building of the winery (whose post office address is Ste. Genevieve) is centered around a great room that includes the tasting room, shop and restaurant, so the feeling is casual rather than formal. And service, a frequent a frequent bugaboo of non-metropolitan dining, seems to hit the sweet spot, affable but knowledgeable, a little more personally than one usually sees in cities, but not overwhelming. Wine, of course, comes from the surrounding vineyards.

At dinner, after much musing (eggplant fries with lemon-horseradish cream? a tomato-roquefort tart?), we kicked things off with bacon-wrapped cantaloupe. And receiving a large, delicious kick is the word; two skewers of dead-ripe melon laced with strips of bacon from a local purveyor and grilled. The bacon flavor penetrated the melon to its core, bringing a whole new set of tastes. And on the plate was a caramelized garlic marmalade, sweet-sour and rich. What Gran would have called "light bread" (as opposed to cornbread) was homemade, and while it was delightfully tasty, it also served to wipe the last bit of the outstanding marmalade, which carried the flavor of garlic and the entire idea of marmalade to a new level. The Chardonel-poached shrimp was nice, sitting in a cocktail glass atop a tangle of cucumber of onion and shreds in a tangy vinaigrette, quite mild from the knockout melon.

We've grown very fond of short ribs and the ones we tried were excellent, well-trimmed and gently braised until they almost fell apart, arriving in what the menu called a Norton barbecue sauce, although it won't seem barbecue-y to St. Louisans. Tomato, yes, and quiet spices, but the meat juices had permeated the sauce to completely that it was about beef more than anything else. The polenta on which it rode was stunning, pebbly from roasted corn kernels, flecks from a handful of mixed herbs and cooked with the grain, absolutely irresistible.

And then there was the tandoori-style chicken. Three pieces, not the ruddy red that's normally associated with a tandoori oven, but certainly with the traditional flavor, was served with basmati rice seasoned with cilantro, chopped tomatoes and cucumber seasoned with cumin, and a drizzle of raita, the yogurt sauce. And the naan, a traditional Indian flatbread, handmade in the kitchen and grilled, gave extra flavor and a nice variable texture, from chewy to crisp,that added to the fun. We've always said tandoori was a good introduction to Indian food, and this, while mild, was tasty and should convert the uninitiated.

From the dessert menu, a generous serving of peach and almond cobbler was not quite cooked through, but that might have been the result of deeply juicy seasonal peaches. But a blackberry shortcake made with slices of sponge cake was marvellous, almost a blackberry sandwich, beautified with a generous dollop of softly whipped cream.

If the weather is benign, weekend breakfast on the front porch of the building (which, like nearly everything at the winery, is built in the French Colonial style of old Ste. Genevieve), looking out on a bucolic valley and slightly rolling hills that almost call to mind some scenes in the West of England, is a blissful place to spend part of a morning. The breakfast menu is, in a word, exciting, with plenty of options on both the sweet and savory sides. This is country breakfast gone haute - blueberry pancakes flew by, and Ann, casually, drifted by the table to ogle three plate-sized cakes that left their recipient openmouthed. (But not, we noted, for very long.) The egg breakfasts involve three eggs, at the insistence of much of the kitchen, whose attitude is that three is the norm. (We settled for two, to leave more room for other things.)

Three of our four eggs were properly cooked; a fourth had gone past the sunny-side up to cooked hard, but more of last night's bread arrived as toast, along with orange marmalade. But the star of the table was a double pork chop brined in Chardonel, perfect and mosit. What the menu terms an herb mayonnaise was drizzled over it, but it wasn't goopy and stiff, just a light, saucy hit that, along with shards of crisp bacon doubled the pleasure. On the other plate, that bacon, plus some local sausagesnuggled up to the eggs. Good coffee and a very respectable mimosa handled the beverage side of things.

Definitely a spot that's worth a drive, but we do suggest reservations, if only to assure oneself that their schedule hasn't changed. The website has good directions.

Grapevine Grill

Chaumete Vineyards and Winery

4345 State Rte WW, Ste Genevieve

573-747-1000

www.chaumette.com

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

Credit cards: Yes

Wheelchair access: Good

Smoking: No

Entrees (dinner): $16-$26 

 

Sausage Museum

There must be some polysyllabic Latin-based word that refers to sausage lovers, beyond the generic swinophile. If so, they have a new destination. This turns out to be the 60 th anniversary of one of the most popular German sausages, currywurst, and someone has opened a currywurst museum in Berlin.

The sausage, it seems, goes back to the Post-WW II occupation time in Berlin, when British soldiers apparently requested a wurstmeister create one. They’re usually sprinkled with more seasonings and topped with ketchup - which is the German word for ketchup.

Here's a Reuters story about it, and a film clip.   

Cowan's

There’s a certain golden glow about America’s collective memory of small-town restaurants and cafes. Slices of tender, juicy meatloaf and crunchy chicken drumsticks parade through our brains, followed by apple pie with flaky crust and vanilla ice cream in a perfect scoop, or maybe a little round dish of peach cobbler. But it seems as though the fantasies skip right over salads. Folks born after the Eisenhower Administration would scarcely recognize them as such. They knew a scoop of cottage cheese on a slice of canned pineapple, atop a leaf of lettuce. Or the so-called combination salad of iceberg lettuce, diced celery and carrot shreds, perhaps a slice or two of radish, with a choice of Kraft dressings. Maybe a couple of slices of hard, pink tomato on top.

And that brings us to today’s lesson. We recently stopped for lunch at Cowan’s in Washington, MO. There, on a white board, was the announcement that BLTs were made with homegrown tomatoes, news that brought a gasp of pleasure. Back in the old days, tomatoes were industrial, at least in our experience. They came in plastic tubes from someplace on the other side of the world. Folks with gardens grew tomatoes, gave them to favored neighbors, gorged themselves, canned the rest. But were tomatoes that good and red and sweet and juicy found in restaurants? Nay, in our small-town experience. But here they were, and they were exceptional.

Cowan’s has been feeding folks since 1930, a year like 2009 in terms of the courage necessary to open a business. It’s a classic small-town café–you can imagine the guys with their coffee cups, sitting around every morning and dissecting local real estate, the latest disgraced legislator and the upcomingof one of the servers. Breakfast is served any time, another major plus. And then there was the constantly growing list of pies on the white board, added carefully in left-handed penmanship,and the almost sky-high meringue on one that, before our very eyes, was placed on a pedestal behind the counter.

Of course we had the BLT. Piled high with bacon and those tomatoes, it was jaw-stretchingly, juice-drippingly good. From the breakfast side of the menu came whole-wheat pancakes, full-flavored and soaking up a pitcher of warm maple syrup. A side order of ham isn’t the Burger’s country ham also seen on the menu, but for an extra charge, we enjoyed a large, thickish slice from the California, MO smokehouse that was perfect. Country ham is easy to overcook and toughen, but this was divine, smoky and salty and tender.

And then there was the pie. Why ever resist lemon meringue? The filling was stiffer than what our aunts used to make, but nicely tart, and the meringue itself almost floated off the plate. But the blue ribbon goes to the blackberry pie, absolutely flawless with its sugar-dusted top. Both pies showed off very flaky, thin crust that hadn’t, in the case of the lemon, gone soggy from its visit to the refrigerator.

And just the sort of service you’d expect, bustling but friendly.

Cowan’s

114 Elm St., Washington, MO

636-239-3213

Breakfast, Lunch & Dinner Wed.-Mon. (Closes early on Sun.)

Credit cards: Yes

Smoking: No

Entrees: $5-$10

Wheelchair access: Poor

The River's Edge

As the town of Hermann has become more of a weekend destination rather than just a Sunday drive, we get more questions about where to eat dinner. For a number of years, our answer has been the River’s Edge, in residence long enough for Joe to have written about for the Post-Dispatch in 1994. A pleasant drive west from Hermann on country-but properly paved-roads, and a ride on a funny little ferry that uses a cable to keep it straight across the languid Gasconade River, the River’s Edge offers its take on Creole-Cajun food in a 19th century mill that overlooks the river and the small ferry.

Definitely very casual, there’s an outdoor deck and two rooms for dining, one of which shares space with the bar. Parking is...well, "rural" is the best way to describe it. Watch out if the ground is really wet, and get there early if you want to take the five-minute, four-dollar ferry ride because it shuts down at 7 p.m., forcing drivers to go the longer way (directions below).

It draws many diners who are quite familiar with the space, and there are frequent family groups, ranging from in-arms infants to grown up children with their young spouses. The aura is friendly and relaxed, and the owners also operate Simon’s in Hermann.

We began with a cup of gumbo, very thick and tasty, if not quite traditional, made with what seemed to be ground meat. The house salad was rather standard, but fresh and crisp. Lots of folks order the house "flower pot bread," white bread that’s indeed baked and served in flower pots, as shown by the distinctive shape. Very yeasty and light, and quite hot, it was accompanied with honey butter, something that Joe finds absolutely irresistible.

 

Shrimp Three Ways offered a dozen and a half large shrimp, prepared to prove the title. Cold boiled ones weren’t overcooked, and had a lemony cocktail sauce with a good kick of horseradish. Those from the grill also were cooked with considerable respect, slightly smoky and a little chewy from the direct heat, but nice. And the butterflied-and-fried provided the biggest surprise. Fried shrimp aren’t something we’re usually we’re very crazy about. But these were lightly breaded with what may have been panko, those crunchy Japanese bread crumbs, quickly cooked and perfectly drained. Not at all greasy, they retained a lot of shrimpy flavor, something that deep-frying tends to obliterate. A side of the house coleslaw, full of poppy and celery seeds provided contrast.

The house features a Cajun barbecue sauce that’s tomato-based, mild-to-moderately spicy, with a note of orange in it, and it went nicely on a half-slab of ribs, particularly large and meaty ones, very tender, too. Alas, the baked potato alongside seemed to have been steamed because its skin was so soft and its flavor practically non-existent.

Fried ice cream for dessert turned out to be what was essentially a sopapilla, a fried piece of dough topped with ice cream, cinnamon and caramel, a good contrast of temperatures, textures and flavors. But it was the strawberry surprise that tickled us. Two squares of puff pastry were sandwiched around a cream cheese filling, topped with whipped cream and diced fresh strawberries, yummy and all the more fun for being something new.

This is mostly a beer and iced tea house, but refills kept coming fast, and the service was as zippy and friendly as you’d expect in a popular small-town spot.

If you plan on taking the ferry, phone the restaurant and make sure it’s running. (By the way, if you’re looking for a hobby, it’s for sale.) To get to the ferry, leave Hermann on Highway 100 heading east. After six miles the highway makes an abrupt right turn and County Route J keeps going straight ahead. (There’s also a sign aiming you toward the Fredericksburg Ferry.) Follow J until it runs right into the ferry landing. The restaurant is across the river on the left. If the ferry’s not working, continue west on 100 until County Road N intersects. Left on N, follow it to J, and follow J to the little town of Fredericksburg, the ferry and the restaurant.

The River’s Edge

1720 Ferry Rd., Fredericksburg, MO, though the website says Morrison, MO

573-294-7207

www.simonswaterfrontrestaurants.com/riversedgeresta.html

Lunch Sat.-Sun, Dinner Fri.-Sun. (closes 7:30 p.m. Sun.) 

Credit cards: Yes

Wheelchair access: No

Smoking: Yes

Atlantic City

A couple of years ago, we raved about the food of chef Stephen Kalt when we ate at his Corsa Cucina in Las Vegas. Kalt has moved on, and this week, he told us that he’s opening a restaurant in Atlantic City in the Borgata Hotel Casino & Spa.

Named Forneletto, its menu - and Kalt’s talent, lauded by fans like Gael Greene - is enough to make us consider a detour the next time we’re on the east coast. You can read more about it here . It's scheduled to open next week, Kalt says.

San Francisco 2009

Re-visiting San Francisco always fills us with a mixture of delight and anxiety. We love the city and its environs, filled with interesting things to delight the eyes, the nose, the mouth, even the ears. But the serious business of deciding where to eat is an early and then constant focus. How many of our meals do we want to spend going back to favorite places? For that matter, how many of our favorite places are still open?

Most of the places we choose are not in the heart of tourist San Francisco. That’s not a deliberate choice, for the most part. We’ve discovered that we enjoy driving around town and thereabouts, so having a car and staying somewhere that we can park without paying $35 a night for the privilege is what we prefer. We landed a room at the Buena Vista Motor Inn that averaged under $100 a night, including parking and continental breakfast. It’s not fancy, and since it’s on busy Lombard Street, traffic noise could be a problem for some. But more money for fun, we think, and besides, the room was twice the size of a budget-ish hotel room near Union Square.

The single place we succumbed to for a return visit was Bar Tartine in the Mission District. We blogged about it last year, and you can read about it here. The most remarkable dish we had was dessert, which ought to be no surprise since Bar Tartine is an offshoot of the remarkable Tartine Bakery & Café. It was what’s called a vacherin, ice cream atop a meringue base. We hadn’t had one since we were in Paris several years ago, and this one was stunning. The strawberriest ice cream ever sat atop the crispy-chewy meringue, which was flavored with pink peppercorns. Talk about flavors tap-dancing on the tongue...it was fab.

And speaking of ice cream, interesting ice cream flavors are the hot thing in San Francisco. Among the leaders of the pack is Humphrey Slocombe—that’s the name of the shop, not (apparently) a real person. Folks who recoil in horror at the idea of offbeat combinations like carrot-mango and milk chocolate-passionfruit should save themselves a trip. But for the rest of us, a visit to this modest little shop whose signature dish is called Secret Breakfast and is flavored with cornflakes and bourbon, is pretty much a necessity. After tasting several things, we ended up with a cone of coconut sorbet and Thai chili lime sorbet, and a dish of balsamic caramel. The combination on the cone was perfect, the coconut cooling off the sharp chili-lime mix, and the balsamic caramel, which is apparently something people either love or hate, was absolutely addictive.

Humphrey Slocombe

2790 Harrison (@24 St.), San Francisco

1-415-550-6971

www.humphreyslocombe.com

Noon - 8 p.m. Tues.-Thurs and Sun., noon-9 p.m. Fri.-Sat

Credit cards: No

Wheelchair access: Good

Smoking: No

Dim sum, the Chinese breakfast-lunch consisting of dumplings and other small dishes of assorted goodies, not all of which are completely identifiable to the uninitiated, is, for most serious eaters (and us), a necessity in San Francisco. The immense place we found on a side street in Chinatown three years ago has disappeared, so we began snooping around for a new spot. What we came up with was the Mayflower Seafood Restaurant, in the Outer Richmond neighborhood. Warning: Leave extra time for finding a place to park. It’s always tricky in this neighborhood, but Sunday mornings seem absolutely forbidding. Still, the hoof of four or five blocks is worth it.

The food, served from carts, is a mixture of new things and items regular St. Louis dim sum-lovers have seen before and more exotic choices. Actually, in many cases, it only resembles what we’ve seen before. Stuffed eggplant, for instance, seemed like it had been hand-stuffed with a more coarsely chopped shrimp filling than any we’d seen around town, rather than the almost factory-similar pieces often showing up hereabouts. The char siu bao, the steamed buns filled with pork contained shredded, rather than chopped pork, minus the red coloring, porkier and more alluring than any we’ve ever scarfed down. Among the exotica were dishes of tiny squid in a tangy, gingery sauce.

Generally a remarkable dim sum, and as we were leaving, we discovered it’s one of a group of 3 restaurants, the other two farther south on the peninsula, and one of whom is the sibling of the now-gone-and-much-mourned Hong Kong Flower Lounge, which had been just down the street from where the Mayflower is now. Good people-watching, as so often happens at dim sum in California, with multigenerational family groups and scads of cute, well-behaved kids.

Mayflower Seafood Restaurant

6255 Geary Blvd, (@26 th St.), San Francisco

415-387-8338

www.mayflower-seafood.com

Lunch & Dinner daily

Credit cards: Yes

Wheelchair access: Fair

Smoking: No

Entrees: $9-$35

And we do have a couple of "don’t bother" places. Yuet Lee, the ancient restaurant at the corner of Broadway and Stockton whose lime-green exterior for years had no signs in English at all except Coca Cola and who put out ethereal seafood, has fallen on hard times. Prices have risen, customers seem to stay away, and the food just isn’t what it once was. And the Washington Square Bar & Grill, once owned by the legendary St. Louisans Sam Deutsch (Fran Landesman’s brother) and Ed and Mary Etta Moose, and a watering hole for the powerful and famous, has re-opened under the original name. For nostalgia’s sake we had lunch there. Unremarkable food, distant staff, a sad reminder of what used to be.