Antiques, Black Bear Bakery and Mexican food aren't the only things found on Cherokee Street. There's the Mud House, which belies its name in nearly all ways. You can read about it here where I covered it for St. Louis Magazine's Relish.
May 21, 2012
May 10, 2012
Lorenzo's Trattoria
If anyone wants proof St. Louis isn't as stick-in-the-mud as some folks claim, consider Lorenzo's. The moderately upscale restaurant on The Hill does what can only be called Modern Italian. That's in considerable contrast to its neighbors who, except for the Spanish-tabled Modesto, range from Italian delis to black-tie haunts of folks wanting what they've cherished for the past 40 years. Don't let the word "modern" raise blood pressures, though; there's a pasta section on the menu, but there are plenty of beyond-the-usual options there, too.
Fried calamari, yes, but chef-owner Larry Fuze pairs them with strips of zucchini, both lightly battered and quickly fried, then anointed with a saffron-touched vinaigrette that gives a little added zip. Hard for some of us to imagine zucchini being satisfying, but this certainly does the job. A nightly special's lobster ravioli didn't arrive with its promised white wine sauce, but rather a chunky brown sauce tasting of artichoke and tomato with perhaps some marsala thrown in, delicious and complex.
The Bibb lettuce salad, fluffy and tender, sports small dice of salami and what seemed to be mortadella, as well as red onions, crisp, and fresh parmesan croutons. The dressing described as sweet onion reminds us that this is Vidalia season, and onion in salad dressing is an underappreciated addition. But this turns out to be a lightly onion-y dressing that is sweet, and that's what happens when a diner is reluctant to ask. A good dressing, just not what we'd expected.
Yes, pizza, about 10 inches in diameter, a handmade crust that's medium-thick, and toppings that reflect the house's style, like roasted garlic, pepperoni and black olives or grilled chicken and pesto. Ours wore a generous amount of mushrooms, diced prosciutto that crisped up, and some sage, making it particularly hearty. And a good, good crust.
Veal chops are standard on most Italian restaurants around town, and Fuze's t-bone chop was succulent. But it was the side that stood out, a tomato bread pudding with truffle, the rich flavor absolutely seductive, the texture moist but not soggy, a little chewy at the edges, a remarkable dish. A marsala sauce on the chop seemed not just wan but superfluous, though; still, it didn't intrude on the whole game. Lorenzo's liver is a long-standing favorite. Tender, not over-cooked, and dressed in a balsamic reduction with pearl onions and mushrooms, plus some crisped-up pancetta, the base of the dish is a serving of polenta, perfect for wiping up the savory-sweet juices and sauce.
The house bread pudding arrives as thin slices, which emphasizes even more its delicate texture. A nice hit of cinnamon melds well with the caramel sauce, although the promised amaretto seems almost indistinguishable. That's fine; this is still a particularly good version of a dish that's now almost ubiquitous on local dessert menus. This one can stay.
Primarily an older crowd, although a table with a couple of very young children added to the din of dining. Amiable service, certainly, although slightly uncoordinated at times, but nothing to seriously distract from the pleasures of the table.
Lorenzo's Trattoria
1933 Edwards
314-773-2223
Dinner nightly
Credit cards: Yes
Wheelchair access: Poor
Smoking: No
Entrees: $15-$27
May 04, 2012
April 26, 2012
April 19, 2012
Dao Tien Vietnamese Bistro
Olive at Woodson and McKnight seems to be becoming a culinary hot spot. Only the gas station on the southeast corner escapes gastronomic action. Dao Tien, in a building that began life as a Dairy Queen, sports a lime green and red-orange interior and a nice, clean fish tank, the latter a nice change from some places around town. Busier at lunch than dinner, many of the customers seem to be regulars.
The appetizer list is fairly brief, various rolls except for fried chicken wings. An order of grilled chicken goi cuon, spring rolls, was worthwhile, the chicken still moist and of a generous amount. Nuoc cham, the dipping sauce, sports more zip than usual, a nice little hit of heat in it, a good addition.
It took considerable self-discipline to pass up the chicken pho, which is listed with the specials rather than the noodle soups, in favor of the more usual beef-based phos. The special pho with oxtail, though, was alluring, oxtail being an old favorite cut of cow. The pho broth itself is rich and well-flavored, without the anise notes that some renditions have. Tossing in a few slices of jalapeno allowed a little of their heat to spred through the broth, and from the plate of add-ins, Thai basil, the long, narrow leaves of culantro, a wedge of lime and some bean sprouts all expand the options for the curious and the aficionado. (Hoisin and chili sauces are also at hand.) The special contained, besides the broth and noodles, large, thin slices of what might have been eye of round, but was very tender for that cut, meatballs in the dense, slightly chewy Asian style, a few ribbons of pale white tripe, and just a bit of equally pale beef tendon, with its slightly gristly texture. The large, thick cut of oxtail topped the bowl. As much as its friends love it, there's no tidy way to eat oxtail that large; it requires fingers or surgery with a knife and fork; it went home with the leftovers to be devoured in privacy. A good, satisfying dish, the broth light and full of flavor.
Banh mi must keep the lunch crowd pretty happy. Six different kinds of the sandwich, including one with sunny-side-up eggs, The "special" was packed with grilled pork, chicken, beef and a sausage, along with strips of cucumber, some lettuce, cilantro and a swipe of mayonnaise. Heavier on meat and lighter on vegetables than many of its kind, it's a large and hearty sandwich on a narrow baguette, the bread reminding us that the years of French colonial Vietnam left their culinary influence.
While the papaya with beef jerky sounded really interesting, a server explained to a nearby table that it wasn't being offered that night because the papaya available at the market was too ripe - the dish calls for the crunchy, unripe flesh. to be used in this salad-like dish. Nice to hear that they pay attention to this sort of detail. From the same section of the menu, entitled "special", a dish of spicy and salty spare ribs was a winner. Small pieces of ribs, easily picked up with chopsticks, are sauced with garlicky juices with plenty of black pepper and just a little faint sweetness. And, yes, salty as well, although the rice cuts both the salt and pepper nicely. (Black pepper is more used in the northern part of the country, interestingly.) Altogether, a worthwhile dish.
Che chuoi, described merely as Vietnamese banana dessert, brings chunks of warm banana in a coconut sauce thickened with tapioca, the whole thing topped with finely chopped salted peanuts. The combination of the salty, crunchy nuts with the sweet tender fruit is a revelation.
Dao, the proprietress, is frequently in the dining room, and often volunteers in the course of her conversation that she'll cook things the diners want. It's also a comfortable place for solo diners, and it's easy to get explanations about the food from the server on duty during my visits.
8600 Olive Blvd, University City
314-995-6960
Lunch & Dinner Mon.-Sat.
Credit cards: Yes
Wheelchair access: Good
Smoking: No
Entrees: $8-$16
April 11, 2012
Medianoche
Mexican food in the non-fast-food division has returned to central St. Louis County with a flourish we haven't seen since the Gallardo Grill opened at the St. Louis Galleria. Mike Randolph, who gave us Half & Half for breakfast and lunch in this spot, changes gears after he closes in the afternoon, waves a wand and some pottery, and there's Medianoche. Alas, despite early hopes of some of us, it's not actually open until the witching hour for which it's named, but nevertheless, there's much to smile about.
First of all, service, which has struggled in the daylight hours, seems to be in much better shape as the sun begins to set. And the menu, which offers both the expected and the unexpected, charms. The combination is probably going to be enough to overcome a faint feeling of my-way-or-the-highway that creeps in at times.
The only excuse for missing the guacamole is an allergy. Made tableside on a simple, un-gimmicked-up cart, it's avocado, red onion, cilantro, minced pepper, salt and lime juice. A good example of letting the ingredients simply do their work, it's still a little lumpy and really doesn't need the house salsa, which arrived earlier. That salsa, by the way, is faintly sweet, perhaps from roasting the tomatoes, and not, as such things go, very hot at all. In the guacamole, the pepper is quite mild, perhaps Anaheims, giving flavor but little heat. And heat isn't necessary, this is such a vivid rendition of the beauty of simplicity. Chips are fresh, even warm.
Available as a first course or a main, the posole does have some heat to it, and a rich, ruddy color that warns the diner of such. The pork is lean but very tender, the cumin and Mexican oregano notes forward. It's no big deal that they're using shredded lettuce rather than the usual cabbage to garnish, but a small serving of soup in a large cold bowl does tend to lose heat quickly. We admit, though, that chatting with the bartender did delay our attack on the otherwise first-rate dish.
Tacos don't fall prey to designer garnishes. Looking as though they could have been found on Cherokee Street (a compliment), two small tortillas cradle the chosen filling topped with chopped onion and cilantro, a lime wedge alongside. An order is three tacos; we're sad to announce that the policy is only one kind of taco per order, rather than mixing up, say a carne asada, an avocado and a pork belly. "We politely decline requests for additions or substitutions" says the menu, and that's that. Those pork bellies are diced, the filling very porky, a little seasoning added, but nice and juicy and, yes, greasy. Hey it's pork belly; lean doesn't happen. Beef cheeks the fourth option are even beefier than the pork belly is porky, meltingly tender, a little swoosh of a tan chili-ish sauce at one end of the tacos. Both just as messy to eat as their kinfolk served elsewhere, but you expected that, right?
It's often difficult to resist duck, and at Medianoche, there's no sense in doing so. Sliced grilled duck breast, medium-rare, and what the menu calls duck carnitas, but is almost like confit, appear with diced fresh pineapple, onion rings and slices of guajillo pepper, all grilled and resting on a mole sauce that finishes the dish off to near-perfection. This may be the best duck dish in town right now, and the bulk of the credit goes to that sauce.
Fish appears in the form of thin slices of snapper flash-fried, and again the sauce magic is at work. While the fish is hot, this is clearly influenced by escabeche, which involves cooked fish with a cool lime-juice-based sauce. The menu calls it a mole verde, its ingredients beyond its mildly hot pepper a green mystery, but it works well with the avocado, radish and cucumber that accompany the fish.
Dessert offerings vary from day to day, but the bartender urged the churros. Ridged strips of deep-fried dough that have been tossed in sugar cinnamon and some grated orange peel, they arrive hot and fragrant. Chocolate is the traditional accompaniment, but it's not drinking chocolate, it's dunking chocolate, thick and creamy. Medeianoche offers it in Oaxacan style, which cranks things up by including a little spicy heat. The serving is generous, more than enough to share unless dinner was very light indeed.
Serious attention is paid to the beverages at Medianoche. The attention to coffee that marks the morning hours persists, of course. In addition there's a small but interesting list of wines (cava with Mexican, anyone?), un-cliched beer and a serious cocktail list that bears studying.
Do not expect margaritas that resemble those at most restaurants. Served up, which is to say not on the rocks, they're strong, less sweet than most folks are accustomed to, and deserving of respect. The bartender was seemingly taken aback when I asked if his pisco sour was the classic version, which resulted in a little vigorous conversation. Instead of a capirinha, the house offers a capiriuva, which muddles grapes with the lime juice, a variation the bartender assured me was also a classic. It turned out to be a first-rate drink, and a fine pairing with the snapper.
The menu offers a prix fixe option called a probando. The whole table has to choose it, and they must agree on their choices of one appetizer, one kind of taco and one entree. (Please note that this is also available to tables of one.) Those servings are mostly not as large as they would be a la carte, but for $26, it's a substantial saving. And it does leave room for the churros.
Medianoche
8135 Maryland Ave., Clayton
314-725-0719
Dinner Tues.-Sat.
Credit cards: Yes
Wheelchair access: Fair
Smoking: No
Entrees: $14 - $21
April 05, 2012
Brunch: Hot Wok Cafe
So what's the difference between "Chinese brunch", the phrase Hot Wok Cafe uses for its Saturday-only repast, and dim sum, which is what most Chinese food lovers think of when the subject of weekend mid-day Chinese food comes up?
Dim Sum is dumpling-centered and this meal isn't. And while there aren't carts - which actually aren't mandatory for dim sum - there are written menus, and like some dim sum in other cities, there's a list for each table to write down how many of each item they want, much like we see in many sushi places.
Unsure of portion sizes, I ordered four items, and had plenty to take home. Some of the menu items may be familiar, like scallion pancakes and seafood dumplings, but other items move into the exotic. For example, the beef sesame bun sounds like something that might be found on one of those counts. Not on any cart I've seen here, though, nor on either coast or in Hong Kong. It's panini-esque, a flat sandwich composed of thinly sliced and seasoned roast beef, cucumber, and a little onion and cilantro in a rectangle of pastry that's been split in half. The pastry is tender, slightly flaky and rich, and the flavors reminiscent of a Vietnamese banh mi sandwich but on different bread. Irresistible, and I soon found out I shouldn't have eaten both halves of the sandwich.
Seafood dumplings looked more irregular and hand-made than those we'd had panfried at dinner. Dumpling sauce, a combination of soy and black vinegar, arrives pre-mixed and arrives in a shaker with them. The dough is more tender than the fried, although part of that is probably related to steaming versus frying, and while these, too, are nice and moist, the flavor is milder, the pieces of shrimp in the filling being a little too shy to make their presence known.
Shangdong roasted chicken brought slices of cold chicken anointed with a soy-based sauce with a little sesame oil. Even the white meat was moist and there was plenty of the juices in which one could dab the bird's meat for added zip. Leftovers here, along with the generous handful of cilantro, made a good sandwich the next day, especially since the ciabatta at hand was given a light smear of mayonnaise seasoned with sriracha.
And then there was what the menu called seafood porridge. It's possible this isn't congee, the traditional Chinese breakfast dish, which is somewhere between a soup and a porridge, but whatever name this goes by, this is outstanding. Most congee found on restaurant buffet tables, is deeply bland, waiting for the knowledgeable diner to add whatever seasonings their amah did. Better hotel breakfasts in Hong Kong have the electric cook pot surrounded by a constellation of add-ins, meat, fish, hundred-year-old eggs, seasonings like soy sauce, and the list goes on and on. But at Hot Wok, it's seasoned, and seasoned perfectly. As white as a bleached linen sheet, its ghostly look belies plenty of ginger, including a pinch of freshly shredded, enough pepper to make it not only the spiciest dish I'd had on either visit but to make it downright addictive. Slices and shreds of green onion, too, give a little color, and then there were a sort of crouton, slices of the thin Chinese cruller that's a morning street food in China. Resembling a churro but lighter, they gave a little more texture. And resting at the bottom of the steaming hot bowl, were thin pieces of white fish. Certainly an unassuming-looking dish, but deeply satisfying.
Next time, I'm going for the seafood pancake, the chive pie and the ting zai zhou, just because I have no idea what it is. (Googling hasn't helped.)
Lots of business, although not mobbed, some sort of gathering of young professionals in a back room and attentive, polite service.
Hot Wok Cafe
14346 S. Outer Forth Rd., Chesterfield
314-576-7008
Lunch Mon.-Fri., Dinner Mon.-Sat., Brunch Sat.
Credit cards: Yes
Wheelchair access: Good
Smoking: No
Brunch items: $2-$10
April 02, 2012
Hot Wok Cafe
Sometimes traveling to a new restaurant is known territory, a trip down Gravois or up Lindbergh. But every now and then things get more interesting. A tip from The Old China Hand sent us out on the somewhat more complicated trail that would lead to the Hot Wok Cafe. Located behind a couple of '70's-kitchy-looking high-rise office buildings at I-64 and Woods Mill Rd./141, it's part of a low, long curve of shops.
On the night of our visit, a fairly early one because of a theater curtain, we found the majority of the patrons were Asian and many clearly were regular customers. A small bar gives room for those awaiting carryout; the adjacent rosy-red dining room has an air of calm.
Hot Wok's hot and sour soup is a classic rendition, bits of tofu, shiitake mushrooms, green onion and waterchestnut suspended in a thickish, aromatic broth, very tart and showing evidence of the Szechuan pepper. Egg drop soup lives up the egg part of its name. The creamy-dense liquid lets it be known that in this recipe, the egg (flavor) comes before the chicken. Serious comfort food. Pot stickers were moist and gingery but didn't cause excitement.
Who is Glen Hu? We have no idea, but Glen Hu's Special combines slices of tender beef and fat shrimp sauteed with mushrooms and green onion. The menu describes its sauce as sweet and spicy and even gives the dish a "spicy hot" star. That's not what came on the plate; rather, it was very like a Mongolian beef with its savory, oniony flavor. It even had the crumchy little rice noodles. Yes, there were small dried red peppers in the dish, but they seemed to have somehow been neutered, all looks and no performance. The heat issue aside, though, this was a very tasty dish, the best of the evening.
Yu shian pork gave narrow strips of meat, lean and tender, with plenty of bamboo shoots and water chestnuts in a garlicky sauce, again described as spicy and wearing those peppers but again with no discernible cranking-up of the Scovill units. It was no spicier than the non-starred tan pen beef.which shared its plate (which the menu did describe as "a hot plate") with mushrooms, baby corn and snow peas in a sauce that hit ginger and soy quite distinctly. All these things arrived hot and fresh-tasting, though, despite the lack of spicy-hotness, and that gave them a considerable edge.
A fairly basic menu for a West County Chinese restaurant, but generally above-average renditions of the food. At least that was going to be the bottom line, but we had noticed on our way in a little sign that said "Chinese Brunch on Saturdays". No, not dim sum, said the server, brunch. Hmmm, we thought. Let's try that. Fate intervened, but eventually Ann did get back. And you can read about that visit in our next post.
Hot Wok Cafe
14346 S. Outer Forty Rd., Chesterfield
314-576-7008
Lunch Mon.-Fri., Dinner Mon.-Sat, Brunch Sat.
Credit cards: Yes
Wheelchair access: Good
Smoking: No
Entrees: $9-$18
February 28, 2012
Yen Ching
Forty years ago, as a rookie Post-Dispatch writer on the restaurant beat, my first piece about Chinese food began, "Beware the peppers!" It hailed Yen Ching, a new Brentwood Boulevard establishment, as a ground-breaker, a pioneer in introducing the spicy cooking of Hunan and Peking to St. Louisans. It became a member of my Class of '72, one of five restaurants to open that year and change local dining habits forever.
The group also included Duff's, Anthony's, Balaban's and the Jefferson Avenue Boarding House. Three are gone and Duff's is up for sale. When that day arrives (sad for us; happy for Tim Kirby and Karen Duffy), Yen Ching will be able open the mythical bottle of aged brandy that goes to "Last Man Standing" competition winners.
Sadder that that, however, is the fact that Yen Ching no longer belongs in a top rank of restaurants. This is not a new decision, however. Over the years, we visited less often, did not include it in our books about St. Louis restaurants. But this year marking the 40th reunion of the Class of '72, and with the restaurant in the process of receiving a new front, we thought we'd visit for old times sake.
The menu, revolutionary to St. Louisans 40 years ago, is now stodgy. The peppers that were in such profusion were totally absent, even on dishes that were supposed to be "hot and spicy." There were a couple of fresh, hot (temperature, not spice), tasty dishes, but not nearly enough of them.
For example, hot and sour soup and pot-sticker dumplings were fine starters; the soup was rich, with excellent spicing, lots of vegetables and an ideal temperature for a wintry night. The balance between hot and sour was just right. Steamed dumplings were light and fresh with a nice hit of ginger in the ground pork filling. The attractively ridged exteriors had the perfect amount of cooking, arriving tender and pleasant, and the server splashed them with soy sauce and vinegar in proper amounts.
It was downhill from there. . . .
Moo Shu Pork was acceptable, though extremely bland. We had overheard a diner at a nearby table ask for extra spicing; we had not been offered the opportunity, as we often are in other Asian restaurants where spicing can vary. The wheat flour tortillas used as wrapping were good, topped with plum sauce and nicely assembled by a server who was a dab hand with his chopsticks. Yen Ching beef (shown) had a little heat, but not enough, and the beef was flavorful and tender; strips of carrots and celery added color, texture and flavor.
The other two entrees failed. Garlic chicken included chicken, mushrooms and water chestnuts, but there was almost no evidence or garlic or of flavor, and shrimp in black bean sauce turned out to be shrimp in a sauce that had only a handful of black beans -- not a black bean sauce. Very disappointing. Interestingly, with all these entrees, the first bites seemed pretty good but the flavors receded rapidly.
Service was competent and pleasant, but dinner at Yen Ching today is not a happy experience, and as autographed photographs of Mark McGwire and Fernando Vina looked down from the walls, we were reminded that they had peaked many years ago, too.
Yen Ching
1012 S. Brentwood Blvd., Richmond Heights
314-721-7507
Lunch & Dinner Daily
Credit cards: Yes
Wheelchair access: Poor
Smoking: No
Entrees: $9-$16
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