St. Louis Eats and Drinks

Human Terrain

 It seems like many of the most powerful works about crises come out of the middle of them, rather than being written or sung or painted with the benefit of hindsight. Certainly no single work of art can capture more than a millisecond of the situation, especially one as complex and long-lasting as the Middle East. But in Human Terrain, which received its world premiere on August 29 in the respectful arms of Mustard Seed Theatre, we have a look at Fallujah in the mid-2000's.

And more specifically, it's a look at a woman in the middle of the conflict - not an Iraqui, but an American woman, a civilian employee attached to a military unit. She's an anthropologist, brought in to do mapping of the human terrain - there is such a project - in order to better understand the country, and presumably its power structure on a micro as well as a macro scale.

Mabry (a first name, pronounced with a long "a"), played by Melisssa Gerth, seems slightly more self-assured than a PhD fresh from academia's ivory towers might be, but hardly with a core of steel. The commanding officer, B. Weller, emphatically points out that she's his responsibility and under his command. The pair are a fine contrast, Gerth's slightly wispy character and Weller transitioning from explosive to human - whatever it takes to make things work. Not long after she arrives, there's an order that such civilian employees must have a guard and so she can no longer go out practicing her language skills without having what is in effect a nanny. This inhibits conversation with the natives even more than she's already encountered - which is plenty. She's met an Iraqi woman and they become friends, although life seems generally a game of "Who Do You Trust?"

There's one scene with a considerable discussion of veiling, which reminds us of the pleasures and even the powers of invisibility. (Hermione Grainger, please discuss.) That's something that we haven't heard much, if anything about, but is worthy of at least some mulling. Wendy Greenwood does good work as Adilah, the woman with the veil.

Fine tech work, too,as is Mustard Seed's habit, especially John Stark's set design. Playwright Jennifer Blackmer's script could use a little tightening, especially in the scenes where much of the dialogue is in what I assume is Arabic, the primary language of Iraq. But the tale is a good and valid one and the transitions in time are very smoothly handled, not always easy to do. But like the situation in the Middle East, there's no easy answer. In fact, there may not be an answer at all.

 

Human Terrain

through September 14, 2014

Mustard Seed Theatre

Fontbonne University

www.mustardseedtheatre.com

 

Annie Moon's Cafe

Located in Tower Grove South, Annie Moon's is slightly wacky but tasteful and tasty. Whoever heard of a bakery/cafe with an associated comic book store? 

St. Louis Magazine is using some of my restaurant reviews, so I am happy to say that you can read about it here. Other reviews, plus theater, travel and whatever strikes my whimsy will continue to be here, and, as always, I'll provide these links to the SLM material

A Few Notes On The Majestic

It was, for many years, almost an adjunct dining room for the Barnes, Washington U Med School, Jewish and St. Louis College of Pharmacy students. That's how I met it. When it closed in the spring, I wrote this for St. Louis Magazine.

New York: Brunch at The Tribeca Grand

 Brunch in New York can be

a.) a contact sport,

b.) excellent people watching

c.) confusing.

d.) expensive

e.) all of the above

The correct answer is, naturally, "e". Experienced test-takers know to re-read questions to look for
key words, and here the key is "can be". Not "is", at least not necessarily. I've found a spot that's very good on several of those counts, not perfect, but rewarding in many ways.

The Tribeca Grand Hotel, just south of Canal Street, is one of those old buildings re-purposed as a hotel. Brunch is served in the Church Lounge, which is to say several areas on the first floor, an atrium, booths with large windows and the bar itself. It's dramatic and the art work quite serious. The building takes up an entire block and on at least three sides of it, it's unmarked, so despite the Google map, we were guessing until we saw a large clock on the street with the hotel's name in small, elegant letters.

This is a fashionable hotel in a hot neighborhood, so it was a surprise to see the price point for the buffet brunch, complete with live music. $26 for adults, $15 for children, and for an additional $15, two hours of unlimited mimosas, Bellinis or bloody Marys. Given the cost of cocktails in New York, this latter is quite a surprise, too. So what's the trade-off?

Not surprisingly, this is not one of those buffets that would be at home in a Tudor banqueting hall. (For that, plan on the Waldorf-Astoria - except in the summer, when they tell me it's doesn't operate.) But what they offer is of high quality. The only things brought to one's table are cocktails; coffee as well as juice is fetch-it-yourself, a bit of a downer.

On the cold table, one is greeted by first-rate lox and sable from the esteemed traditional purveyor Russ & Daughters. Bagels, of course, cream cheese, sliced tomato and onions - and a new fillip, guacamole, assertively seasoned. Green salads, of course, including one with watercress, dice of beet and tomato and candied pecans, plus fruit salad and one with blackeyed peas. Never thought I'd see that ingredient in lower Manhattan. Also offered was a Spanish tortilla, the open-face omelet often served at room temperature. Theirs was filled with bits of various vegetables, a little insipid compared to some of the onion-laced versions found elsewhere. And the potatoes so necessary to any brunch are here, too, strangely enough, a lacy sheet of crisply fried matchstick-sized potato strings that doesn't suffer from being away from the heat. Also wedges of lemon-roasted potato - and those really should be warm, although they're pretty tasty.

The hot food is over on the bar, and aims pretty much exclusively at breakfast items. There's an omelet station, of course, although one guest reported getting The Look when she asked for a couple of eggs over easy. On the other hand, I saw another guest do the same and the request was quickly complied with. This also where the fat, tender Belgian waffles are turned out, with warm, real maple syrup. There's ham, lean but very moist, a light cure and a glaze with just a little pop to it. The link sausages are first-rate, un-greasy but not tough, just a hint of warm spices like cinnamon among the pepper and maybe even some sage for them. And bacon? Bacon comes from another well-known supplier, Benton's of Tennessee, plenty lean, not soggy from a steam table, some of it crisp and some of it almost like country ham in its texture, and not heavily brined. Good stuff.

The dessert headliner is the doughnuts from the Doughnut Factory, although on my visit, the plain cake doughnuts, an unusual offering from a place known for its more exotic choices, were rather dry. The dessert of choice was a bundt-cake-looking pound cake with blackberries, best taken with what labels said were clotted cream and lemon curd. By classic standards, it was more like creme fraiche and a lemon sauce, less rich than a curd but properly lemony. The cake/cream/lemon combination was a fine finale.

The biggest downside was the service. Plates piled up on the table until one of my pals grabbed a passing server to request their removal. Cocktails took at least 10 minutes to arrive when first ordered, although the second round came with more alacrity. We had to physically take a salt shaker from a table across the way because no one walked by or gazed our way. No one was rude. They were just disorganized, or rookies , or perhaps hung over.

I think this place is worthwhile - not a gem, but fun. For most folks, it's a new neighborhood, the people watching (a local crowd) is good, the music is nice, the noise levels are acceptable, and much of the food is tasty. The service is just plain erratic. But this is good bang for the buck, and there's always Chinatown for an after-brunch stroll.

 

Church Lounge

Tribeca Grand Hotel

2 Avenue of the Americas (6th Ave.), New York

212-519-6600

www.tribecagrand.com

Brunch Sat. (live DJ) and Sun. (live jazz) 11 a.m.-4 p.m.

Credit cards: Yes

Wheelchair access: Good

Smoking: No

Brunch: $26/$15

Brunch: River City Casino

 Ah, casino buffets...visions of the horn of plenty, slightly out of tune, perhaps, but tootling "We're In The Money" as food pours out, filling tables to overwhelming. Fruit rolls off the side, a turkey tips at an unseemly angle, pies and cakes vie for space with potato salad - that sort of thing. Casinos, at least those out here in the provinces, seem to stock their buffet with fairly awful stuff or surprisingly good. (It's probably true in Vegas as well; we just never hear about it.) And since St. Louis is perpetually in search of a really good brunch buffet, we thought about casinos.

River City Casino's buffets hold forth at The Great Food Exposition restaurant. (Park on the north end of the building to avoid a trip through the gaming floor.) The room has a couple of surprises for newcomers. One is that there are actually windows that look outside, an unusual thing in casinos, where they prefer that people not know even faintly what time it is. The windows are screened heavily from the view of the parking lot by plenty of trees, but the bucolic effect is quite nice. The other is that the aroma of cigarettes inside the entrance and following one down the hall is intense and apparently permanent. (Wry aside: Leaving that same entrance one sees several "No Smoking" signs. Outside.) It persists as one enters the restaurant, stops at the pay station, explains one's beverage choice and starts to be escorted to a table. Happily, both the dining areas and the long buffet counters are free of the scent. If they can manage the aroma that well, why not take the air-cleaning even farther down the hall?

The large salad and soup bar that greets guests is not much to become excited about, even though there's soup on it too - as well as oatmeal and grits. Experienced buffet folks know soups fills up the diner too fast. But hold fast - the best salads aren't actually on the salad bar. Croissants and corn muffins are, though, and real butter, an encouraging sign.

Cold items are on the far ends of the main buffet, hot ones in the center. Sushi is forgettable, but nearby is a rather attractive antipasto selection with grilled marinated portobello slices, sauteed asparagus not overcooked, little balls of mozzarella in a balsamic dressing, and thinly sliced capicola, dry-cured pork, a little spicy and quite nice. Shrimp, of course, hanging out in this neighborhood, and they, too, are tasty, not overcooked nor watery. A couple of different kinds of marinated salads, like artichoke and sweet pepper, show up, as well.

The usual large pieces of meat are around, salmon, turkey breast, ham - but instead of prime rib, there was sliced flank steak, some of it actually rare, and very tasty it was. Fried chicken, excelled, fresh, well-seasoned and not at all greasy. Another odd arrangement was that the chicken was with the pastas, and quite a distance from very good mashed potatoes and intriguingly spiced sweet potatoes.

An Asian section began with more interesting small salads, cucumber, a sort of slaw, and went on to crab rangoon, good but with an unusual sweetness, shrimp shu mai, the dim sum dumpling that weren't in a steamer but had been cooked somehow so that the rice dough covering had almost crisped, and what was, in effect, some sweet and sour chicken. Asian short ribs, said the tag - not pretty to look at, dark brown, the grain of the meat almost resembling the grain of wood. But so free of fat and gristle they might not have actually been short ribs - and absolutely delicious, tender and surprisingly moist. The rice was actually in takeout boxes.

The breakfast section seemed to draw most of the attention, lots of bacon that stayed crisp rather than steam-table limp, moist sausage patties, scrambled eggs that didn't fare as well, and fabulous biscuits with a decent gravy. No Benedicts, but pancakes and the toughest French toast I've ever come across.

Waffles? No waffles? Oh, yes. But they were down in the desserts. Blueberry waffles, in fact. A number of mini-desserts, little apple crumbles and parfaits. Regular-sized slices of pie. A selection of sugar-free desserts. Skip the loaf cake, but look for the chocolate thingy that resembles a large Ding Dong, a thin layer of ganache covering chocolate cake topped with chocolate mousse, moist and chocolatey. Lots of kinds of ice cream scooped to order. But the don't-miss is warm bread pudding, tender and eggy and not overcooked, with a light caramel sauce. Also enough whipped cream to float a canoe, for any dessert you choose.

It's $20 for adults - but if you have their My Choice card (which is available elsewhere in the casino and can be used the day you get it), they take $2 off. Champagne or mimosas included. For kids 4-10 years old, it's $15. They do brunch both Saturday and Sunday, starting on Saturday at 11 a.m. and Sunday at 9 a.m., a nice touch.

 

The Great Food Exposition

River City Casino

777 River City Casino Blvd., Lemay

888-578-7289

www.rivercity.com

Brunch Sat.-Sun.

Credit cards: Yes

Wheelchair access: Good

Smoking: I saw no one smoking in the restaurant, but....

Buffet: $20 adults, $15 children  

A Pizza Story

 Sometimes I forget there are certain things that some people need to hear over and over. One of them is that there are lots of different ways to make pizza. The stuff that appeared in college dorms is not the only kind of pizza out there, and to go to a pizza place expecting what you've had before is, frequently these days, to set oneself up for a surprise.

There's a certain irony in the fact that across the street from A Pizza Story is a franchise pizza spot. You've probably gathered that I'm going to say that APS pizza is not the mass-produced stuff. It's Neapolitan style, the soft, thin crust with charred bubbles on the edge, one size, maybe 11 inches across. The double storefront on Manchester Avenue in Maplewood is simple, casual enough to be family-friendly and yet showing some style.

The menu, too, is pretty simple, a few pizzas, a couple of pastas, some salads and a couple of desserts. And the calamari. Let us not forget the calamari.

Why? Because they're pretty amazing. Forget the little leg-tassels you've had. As shown in the photo, these fellows are as big as onion rings. Twice as interesting, though. Part of it is that they're more tender than the rubber-band-y texture those tassels have. The other charm is their seasoned breading, slightly peppery, notes of garlic and perhaps onion, very satisfying. The puttanesca sauce with them is tasty but superfluous. One visit, the daily special was a caprese salad, tomato and mozzarella with just a touch of balsamic vinegar. Nothing innovative, certainly, but tasty despite the use of Roma tomatoes, which are not among the most flavorful of the breed.

The pizzas begin with the basic margarita, tomato, mozzarella and tomato sauce. Three of the six pizzas are vegetarian, by the way, and this is a kitchen that likes eggplant a lot, at least at this time of year. The Thriller adds oregano and Spanish chorizo to that. Spanish chorizo differs from its Mexican cousin in that it's rather like salami, a cured sausage that's sliced before its served. It's a spicy, less greasy change from pepperoni, and it worked wonderfully as a pizza topping.

A Space Opera - no, I don't know the exact origins of the name - was a take on the classic smoked salmon pizza from Wolfgang Puck. No caviar here, and ricotta instead of creme fraiche, topped with slivers of red onion, fronds of fresh dill and some salt-cured capers. A note to non-fanciers of capers: Their counterpoint of tartness and a little salt are perfect punctuation marks in the paragraph of the pizza. Tasty hot, equally good at room temperature, too.

Yes, dessert, tiramisu and housemade gelato, for instance, and bomboloni, often described as Italian doughnuts. Not quite - they're made here with the pizza dough, a little larger than shooter marbles, deep-fried, of course. They're chewy, a little sweet from the swoosh of powdered sugar across them and served with a light syrup flavored with orange. The syrup is what saves this from being an unremarkable dish, its almost flower-like orange flavor givng a smile to the dish.

Pleasant, attentive service, at table and bar, lots of different sorts of diners. Don't dress up.

 

A Pizza Story

7278 Manchester Ave., Maplewood

314-899-0011

www.apizzastory.com

Lunch & Dinner Tues.-Sun.

Credit cards: Yes

Wheelchair access: Good

Smoking: No

Pizzas: $12-$16

The Pollack Scholarship

Yesterday afternoon I had the honor and pleasure of presenting this year's Joe Pollack Memorial Scholarships to two great young adults, Amber Lloyd, who wants to eventually do pharmaceutical research, and Edward Thirdkill II, who's aiming for his own business with computer engineering. The Scholarship Foundation is our vehicle for doing this for the St. Louis Media History Foundation, the folks who came up with the great idea. 

That's a photo of Joe, my favorite, taken by my fabulous daughter-in-law, Jane, with Harry, the cat, on his lap. I brought it along for a little Show and Tell. 

And, yes, the fund is still happily accepting donations! You can find out more about the organization here. Congratulations to Amber and Edward! The pleasure is ours.

 

Quills

 "Quills" is about the Marquis de Sade. And if there's anyone out there who doesn't know who he is, sufficient to say that he's the person who gave his name to sadism. A film with Geoffrey Rush and based on this play came out several years ago but - I am told - is considerably different.

De Sade is held in what at the time would have been called an insane asylum or the French equivalent. It's the very early 1800's and de Sade's behavior, both on and off the printed page, has finally permanently put him away. But he lives a comfortable life, allowed furnishings, his own clothes and, oh, yes, paper, ink and quill pens. He's writing, writing, ahem, like mad, living his fantasy life vicariously. The sizzling stories are smuggled out by a young seamstress, but all is discovered when his cell is searched after a complaint - and some judiciously placed money - from the marquis' long-suffering wife.

The new head of the hospital orders his second in command, a priest with the newer theories of treating the patients with kindness, to stop the writing. And the battle begins.

This play is often viewed as a question of artistic freedom. We're not talking about Nelson Mandela writing from Robbin Island or Eldridge Cleaver's "Soul On Ice" here, though. There are, early on quotations from what he's writing, and they are deeply, frighteningly lewd. (The easily disturbed may be very uncomfortable.) Is this shouting "Fire!" in a crowded theater?

But what comes far more immediately to my mind is a portrait of compulsive disorder and how it can destroy a person. Ted Gregory, not seen on local stages for many years, hypnotizing as a snake, stalks and seduces and spews his mania in all sorts of ways. One can argue there's a whole lotta flouncing going on, but French aristocrats seem not to have been known for their rugged manliness - despite all those Scots visiting the French court pre-revolution. It's a gripping performance.

The administration of the asylum is in a power struggle over the best way to cure their residents. The old style, advocated by the new boss, Doctor Royer-Collard, David Wassilak, is physical punishment, yea, torture - the rack will stretch those delusions out of them, right? Antonio Rodriguez, as the Abbe de Coulmier, second in command and the guy who seems to do all the actual work, has put into place more humane methods scorned by the medical establishment. Wassilak, cold as ice but secretly uxorious, is in danger of losing his job because of the marquis' stories becoming public. Rodriguez' priest, a man in very strong control of himself (although we see glimpses of rather human impulses), does as he's ordered but not without arguments. The two men are each as proper and reserved as their antagonist is raucous and inflammatory. Excellent work by both actors.

Kudos, too, to Stacie Knock playing the marquis' wife, who has gone back to her, uh, maiden name, and Caitlin Mickey as the seamstress and, briefly, as the doctor's wife. That wife, by the way, is having a lovely new chateau built for her by her desperate husband, and there's this architect, played by Charlie Barron...but that's another story line. Great costumes, including a spectacular decolletage, from Cyndi Lohrmann, and a very nice set from Dunsi Dai.

The Doug Wright script under the watchful eye of director Brooke Edwards can be, despite the subject matter, quite funny, ranging from broad to sly. At one point the abbe says to the doctor, "It's bedlam out there." The word bedlam is the London mispronunciation of Bethlem Royal Hospital, an asylum where on Sundays, the curious would pay a small fee to enter and be amused by the poor souls. An inside gag, it slips by unnoticed. The script lags a bit in the late second act, but for the most part keeps us drawn in, far in. De Sade's anticlericalism does strike a very contemporary note, by the way.

Not for the easily or even semi-easily offended, but very worthwhile theater.

 

Quills

through August 17

Max & Louie Productions

Wool Studio Theatre

Jewish Community Center

www.maxandlouie.com

Sex, Drugs, Rock & Roll

"And who carries around an egg salad sandwich in their pocket?"

That's a sample of dialogue from "Sex, Drugs, Rock & Roll". It's Joe Hanrahan, our own Man In Black and leading local purveyor of author Eric Bogosian's works, in the opening monologue of this 75-minute spree. This particular fellow is a street person who collects bottles "and cans! - mustn't forget, cans, too!"; nine other individuals follow the bottleman's appearance, all in the form of Hanrahan.

This is surely an actor's eqivalent of a couple of hours of cardio exercise, no breaks except to throw on a jacket or remove a hat, no one to bounce lines off, just the actor, the lights and the audience. It's intimate, as all Hanrahan's one-man shows are. He's using the cellar at Herbie's Vintage 72, and that makes it easy for the audience to bring a glass of wine or a cocktail down with them. In fact, one thoughtful guy brought his female companion an order of the chocolate fritters, a signature dish of the restaurant - they did, however, manage to finish them before the performance began, and thank you very much for that, sir.

If you aren't familiar with Bogosian, the title should give you some clue that strong subject matter is at hand. He has little sympathy for few of his characters except the bottleman. Despite the play's being more than twenty years old, it's held up well, with a few minor changes - I'm pretty sure Bogosian's original script didn't refer to Schnuck's. Whacks at religion, greed, self-aggrandizing self-help, celebrity, all pass under his gimlet eye.

It's rough going, not very cheerful, although quite funny much of the time. And anyone who can get humor out of some of these situations deserves plaudits. Hanrahan doens't miss a beat. At times one has to remind oneself that this is the same guy that a few minutes ago was being the divorced father talking to his therapist. Voices change, facies change, Hanrahan remains.

Funny, yes, but like much satire - because that's what this is, essentially - it's tough stuff. No intermission; just head upstairs for a good stiff drink and avoid looking at the baseball scores.

 

Sex, Drugs, Rock & Roll

through August 17

www.midnightcompany.com

Herbie's Vintage 72

405 N. Euclid Ave.

Peshwa: Lunch Buffet

 There's been lots of discussion about the proliferation of barbeque restaurants around town in the past year or so. But under the radar, there's another kind of restaurant that's absolutely mushrooming up. We've seen a near-explosion of Indian spots hereabouts, and I, for one, intend to pay attention to them. I'm missing the Curry Mate, alas, but sometimes eating alone can give opportunity for interesting and instructive conversations.

Just as I began to realize this increase, I came across Peshwa. Subtitled The Royal Indian Cuisine and located on Page between I-170 and Lindbergh, it's where the original Gokul was. (Parking at the side and back of the building.) Lunch buffet, like most of the local South Asian restaurants, is $9, very reasonable. It's not an immense buffet, but it's certainly an interesting one. And the diners, early in the period the buffet runs (it opens at 11.30 a.m.), certainly appeared to be people who'd know what they were eating. Even better, when I looked at the buffet, there were dishes that weren't the standard ones found all over town. Some classics, yes, but others - well, read on.

A particularly gracious note is that on the sneeze guards over the buffet, the name of each dish was written. Primarily vegetarian options; the three chicken items were on another buffet from the vege ones. And since the real strength of the various cuisines of India is, at least to me, in their vegetables, here was where the interest level went up. Because the first thing I noticed was cabbage. I've never seen it on an Indian menu, and I admit that, cooked, it's not one of my favorite vegetables. But this could woo almost anyone, not spicy-hot but deeply savory, mixed with cooked mung beans, it was delicious. Vegetable korma, creamy and lightly sweet, as it should be, charmed, and so did a thicker, slightly spicier chickpea chana masala.

Also a surprise were hara bhara, vegetable kebabs - not on skewers, mind you, but dark chunks that were emerald green inside, a little chewy, a really subtle but complex flavor. I'm sure there was spinach in there and chickpea flour, or gram. They must have been deep-fried, but they weren't at all greasy. Dal, the lentils always found on such buffets, were described as "fried". The flavor was sort of sweet-spicy with a little sour note in it, and the frying refers to the cooking of seasonings. Another new dish was sprouted matki, or moth, beans, rather small, like alfalfa sprouts in terms of size - not a particularly handsome dish, but an interesting one.

Three chicken dishes, tandoori, nice and smoky, butter chicken, a curry we don't see much of but deserving of applause, very creamy and rich, and what they called malvani chicken, "malvani" referring to a part of Goa and an adjacent province. Coconut, common in that southern cooking, but lots of other things, and a little sweet. All the chicken dishes except the malvani were barely warm, unlike the vegetarian options.

A stack of very crisp and fresh pappadums awaited, with the sweet tamarind and the spicy cilantro chutneys. Raita, the cooling yogurt sauce, had more than just a few cucumber bits in it, too. The naan was fresh, buttery and absolutely addictive, the best I've had in a long time. There was dessert, too, a pan that looked liked mashed sweet potatoes but was marked pineapple sheera. It's a semolina pudding, seasoned with cardamom, whose somewhat citrus-y flavor plays nicely with the crushed pineapple.

The evening menu, too, is different - fewer of the appetizers are deep-fried, there are seven different kinds of chaat, the savory snack-y dishes and lots of vegetarian entrees.
As I was paying my bill, I remarked to the woman at the cash register who seemed to be the manager that it was nice to see different foods. "So many dishes from all parts of India," she explained. "Why keep putting out the same things?" Wise woman. Good food.

 

Peshwa

10633 Page Avenue

314-248-8888

www.peshwafood.com

Lunch and Dinner Wed.-Mon.

Credit cards: Yes

Wheelchair access: Good

Smoking: No

Lunch Buffet: $9