Matters of Taste

A Honey (Dew) of a Drink -- Best Cocktail of 2012

Actually there were two Best Cocktails last year, but since their success revolved around one rather unusual and very scrumptious ingredient I’m calling it a tie.

Who knew that honeydew melon could be a playa on the chic ‘n’ trendy cocktail circuit?

At Hop Sing Laundromat in Philly’s Chinatown, I fell in love with a simple but magical potion involving a top-shelf rye and freshly pressed honeydew melon juice. It was a wildly aromatic wonder, mingling the soft summery sweetness of honeydew with the warm, dry spice of rye whiskey. Served ice cold, straight up in an old-fashioned champagne coupe ( the shallow alternative to the flute), it was exciting, inspiring and delicious.

                   


Hop Sing Laundromat (above) is showing up on plenty of Best of 2012 lists. It’s a quirky, fantastical place that channels the days and drinks of pre-Prohibition and the Speakeasy era. Opened last summer by a dapper Asian gent who calls himself simply “Lee”, it became an instant sensation, thanks to creative, meticulously crafted cocktails, a supremely comfortable space, and a definite flair for the dramatic.

 

My early September adventure began when my son, Nicholas, and I arrived at an unmarked door in Chinatown a little after midnight on a Saturday evening and rang the buzzer. The street was dark and deserted. Nicholas assured me that he knew “the drill,” but I fretted nonetheless that either #1 I wouldn’t pass muster with the bouncer who’d open the door or  #2 I’d end up getting mugged in what seemed to me a rather sketchy part of town.

After several minutes the door peeped open and a “host” escorted a group of very happy guests out, wishing them a good evening. He told us someone would be with us shortly. That someone was “Lee” himself who opened the door after a few more minutes and asked what we wanted. Nicholas told him we’d come for cocktails -- seemed like a no-duh question and answer to me but apparently it's part of the schtick. Lee asked if we knew the rules. Nicholas assured him that he did, but Lee nevertheless ran down the list:

No cell phones, no cameras, no other recording devices, and cash only.  Apparently we both looked pretty good, because Lee skipped his usual spiel about “dress” requirements that ban flip-flops, sandals, sneakers of any kind, shorts and hats.  Oh yeah, patrons aren’t supposed to bug the bartenders with questions about what’s in each drink either, which is why my above description of my own personal honeydew heaven is short on specifics.

When the eccentric Lee ushered us inside, I was dumbfounded by the scene that unfolded --  a cavernous, dimly-lit space with high ceilings, exposed brick, church pews,  bookshelves lined with weighty tomes, a massive carved wood bar lighted by real candles, and a floor covered completely with shiny pennies. Elegant, well-spaced tables were tucked into every alcove, stools lined the nickel-plated bar.

                                            

All Hop Sing cocktails are unique and inspired, and made with fruit juices squeezed on the spot, homemade syrups and bitters, and an astonishing collection of top-shelf booze, said to number 1,000 bottles. (Photo of the Henry "Box" Brown cocktail by Robert Neroni.) Glasses are vintage style, ice is custom made, servers are polite and professional. Most drinks (each of which is said to have two-ounces of alcohol) cost $12, a bargain by any modern standard, a downright steal given the mesmerizing performance that is Hop Sing Laundromat.

 

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Honeydew also showed up in my glass at Franklin Mortgage and Investment Co. another Philadelphia lounge/bar seeking to recreate the days of Prohibition. (Am I the only one who doesn’t get this fascination with one of the nastier periods of American history?)

                                  

Named for the company that served as the front for what was once the largest illicit booze ring in the country, the subterranean Franklin Mortgage and Investment Co.-- A Drinking Establishment  (just off Rittenhouse Square) captures the flair of the pre-Prohibition era with its décor, music, and drinks.

We arrived early on a blustery October evening and managed to snag a cozy corner booth right away (I’m told patrons routinely wait an hour or more on the sidewalk in everything from snowstorms to sauna baths). Based on my experience, these classy, creative cocktails are well worth the wait.

My Starbuck Swizzle was a light and luscious concoction of Tanqueray gin, Bonal (a French aperitif), green Chartreuse, house-made honeydew syrup, fresh pineapple and lime juices and a few drops of orange bitters. Each fruit announced its presence loud and clear; the gin contributed the perfect herbal balance. I also love the Emma Frost, a glitzy production of Plymouth Gin, Cocchi Americano, fresh lemon juice, house-made grapefruit syrup and a few drops of crème de Violette. 

                                       


The rest of the ever-changing menu at Franklin Mortgage is equally enticing, with all the ingredients of the day – Rittenhouse Rye, Buffalo Trace Bourbon, Becherovka, Bitter Truth Bitters – shaken and stirred by a talented team that’s having a whale of a good time doing its job. Mixologist/bartender Al Sotak (pictured above) will be  honored next month as one of Philadelphia’s 2013 Rising Stars by StarChefs.com.

 

Re-Fashioning the French Fry

I just hit the “French fry” jackpot. Two weeks ago in Philadelphia and this weekend in San Francisco, I discovered imaginative and scrumptious riffs on this beloved American food.

At Jamonera, one of three Center City Philly restaurants owned by the talented chef/entrepreneur duo Marcie Turney and Valerie Safran, I ordered the Papa Frita to nibble along with my sassy grapefruit-spritzed Alhambra cocktail.

                                     


Jamonera’s potato chunks were crispy skinned, fluffy inside. Sprinkled with coarse salt and drizzled with a bracing, wood-smoked garlic aioli, they delivered a rapid-fire volley of flavors and textures. The shiny  house-made sherry vinegar hot sauce made the fab fries taste even better. (The photo is from metro.us, a Philly blog with great restaurant recommendations.)

Later in the tapas parade we ordered eggplant fries, also known as Berenjenas (below). We dipped the crisp batons, miraculously creamy within, into a spunky smoked salmorejo sauce (tomatoes, bread, olive oil and garlic), then captured the little shreds of zamorano cheese (similar to Manchego) and squiggles of truffled honey, and decided that it’s been way too long since our last visit to Spain. (Photo from PhillyNoodle.)

                                    

Now I’m in San Francisco and my track record keeps getting better. On Thursday night I stumbled upon Polenta Fries with Parsley and Parmigiano-Reggiano at Sociale, a charming neighborhood spot tucked into a cozy alleyway corner in Presidio Heights. (Unfortunately, I was so busy scarfing the fries and the voluptuous Wild Mushroom Pot Pie and the snappy Spinach Linguini with Clams that I neglected to take a photo of the fries.)

The polenta wands appeared fat and crusty, but, in fact, were so light and wispy they could have practically flown into my mouth on their own. With each bite I cracked through the microscopic fried shell and into a cloud of hot, buttery polenta. A flurry of shaved parmesan and chopped parsley completed the picture.

                                      

Twenty-four hours later we were oohing and aahing over the Spiced Fries with Aioli (above) at Prospect in the SoMa district. After all the eggplant/polenta/sherry-hot-sauce exotica, these were your ordinary, all-American French fries…but with a twist. Like the acclaimed fries at Prospect’s “sister” restaurant, Boulevard (there’s an overlap of owners and consulting chefs), these are said to be cooked in rice bran oil, which has a lighter, “cleaner” flavor profile that lets the taste of potato shine. The chunky sticks are pillowy inside, crusty outside, and liberally doused with a "barbecue" spice blend that's lip-smackingly good. (Photo from SeriousEats.)

Four great French fries, and not a burger in sight. No supporting actor roles for these impressive fries. They all get center stage on their respective menus.

SuperKALEifragilisticexpialidocious!

Kale. It’s everywhere. Kale slaw. Kale chips. Kale salad. One would think this rough, ruffly dark green cousin of chard just popped up out of the earth in 2012, so gaga are today’s chefs over it.

But kale can be a scary thing in the wrong hands. It’s tough (Tuscan kale has thinner leaves and is less tough than regular kale). It’s tough to cook properly. And, it can be tough to eat. I need all five fingers to count the number of times in 2012 that I’ve been served kale that could do double duty for a Brillo pad.            
So I was apprehensive when my son Nicholas ordered the Shaved Tuscan Kale last week when we dined at Matyson BYOB in Center City Philadelphia.

                                    
Happily, that apprehension quickly turned to awe.

Not only was this the best kale dish I’ve ever tasted, it was one of the best dishes of 2012, period. Matyson chef Ben Puchowitz starts with what he calls “really, really fresh” Tuscan kale from a nearby Lancaster, PA farm. The leaves are sliced very thin (a chiffonade) and tossed with roasted butternut squash, fluffy quinoa, pumpkin seeds, freshly grated parmesan cheese and a zesty lemon-oregano vinaigrette. Thanks to a last minute dusting of fresh, rubbed oregano, the dish smelled as good as it looked when it arrived at our table.

I was in awe of much of the food at Matyson, actually. I also loved the night’s special, a pan-roasted cod that was first marinated in miso paste and sugar so that it caramelized and formed a crackly crème brulee-like crust when cooked. The butter-soft fillet was paired with slightly chewy Shanghai-style noodles and set afloat in a divine broth sparked with ginger, garlic and several types of Korean chile paste.

                                      

“Spicy Beets” (above) was a lip-smacking wonder of a dish, though it sounded like a major culture clash with its (Greek) feta cheese, (French) lentils, (Korean) kimchi, pistachios and fresh mint. (Photo from CityEats.com.) Long Island duck breast was formed into elegant noisettes, sautéed and served with crispy little rice cakes and a garlicky soy-based sauce. Cured Verlasso salmon was whimsically paired with “tater tots,” whipped buttermilk and a sprinkling of caviar. Hangar steak was first-rate, each delicious slice made even better by the lobster mushrooms and kohlrabi puree sharing the plate. This is creative food, bursting with flavor, artfully presented, and all without taking itself too seriously.

Matyson is a pretty place, a long narrow room with nice lighting and attractive art on the walls. Since there’s not much space by the front door/desk, folks waiting for tables often do so on the sidewalk, where a charming bench sits under the front window. Rittenhouse Square is just up the street.

                                        

Matyson is a member of the BYOB brigade, a popular phenomenon in Philly where liquor licenses are reported to cost nearly $100,000. The bold letters are prominent in the logo, lest unsuspecting souls get settled at a table only to find they have to schlepp to the nearest state liquor store for a bottle of wine.

I'm not sure when I'll get back to Philly for another feast at Matyson BYOB. But I do know when I'll get to taste the fabulous kale again. I've added it to our menu for Thanksgiving dinner.

Humble Hash Goes Haute

The Clancys of mid-20th-century Boston would get quite a chuckle out of the lofty new status of corned beef hash. This classic New England dish was originally based on leftovers --- the corned beef and cabbage Sunday lunch and cooked potatoes. It was a cheap and easy way to feed a family, and a festive accompaniment to green beer on St. Patrick’s Day.

But somehow hash became a regular at the chichi Power Breakfasts of the late ‘80s and early ‘90s.  And now, it’s a fashionable, anytime-of-day feast, with highly respected chefs tossing in everything from beets and horseradish to roasted chiles and chorizo.

In the right hands, this plebian staple is a thing of beauty. And “right” is an apt description of the hands chopping and dicing in the kitchen of the Four Seasons Philadelphia.

                                 

 
In the hotel’s elegant yet comfortable Fountain Restaurant, the House-Made Corned Beef Hash is served with two perfectly poached Lancaster eggs. The meat is sweet and meltingly tender. The caramelized onions are from Vidalia, GA. Some of the Yukon Gold potato cubes are crisp, some soaked in meat juices. But what I loved most was the nearly-hidden bits of fiery, roasted peppers. (The menu calls them “Long Hot Peppers.”)

This corned beef hash looks plain and simple (as you can see in my “doesn’t-do-it-justice-but-I-was-anxious-to-dig-in” photo.) But start eating and you know immediately that it’s a “10,” with luscious bits of what seem to be roasted tomatoes and red bell peppers hiding behind the beefy façade. As the runny yolk starts to weave its way through the dish, you might even pronounce it an “11.”

 A humble plate of hash goes haute at the Four Seasons. Gotta love it.

I'll Drink to "Thymes Like These"

Last month I blogged about the inspired “Thymes Like These” cocktail that’s served at Restaurant Eve in Alexandria, VA. I was lucky enough to taste the herbal, citrus-spiked creation recently at a State Department event introducing the Diplomatic Culinary Partnership.

                                               

Bartender/Craftsman Todd Thrasher was shaking up this quirky quaff at the party. Not only did it taste great –- bright, bracing, aromatic -- but it expanded my drinking horizons. Until then I was only vaguely familiar with one of the ingredients, Cocchi Americano, but learned from Thrasher (and subsequent research) that it’s a fortified white wine aperitif, created in Italy in 1891 but widely introduced in the US only in 2010. The Moscato-style wine is infused with cinchona bark (the original source of quinine), citrus peel, spices and other botanicals.  The aperitif is crisp and citrusy with a pleasing hint of bitterness.

 

                                                      

I wasn’t familiar with Citadelle gin either, since I do most of my summertime G&Ts with Tanqueray or Hendricks. (Citadelle is a French gin, complex yet subtle, that’s aged in Cognac barrels. It’s a blend of about 18 botanicals and doesn’t have the in-your-face juniper flavor of many other gins.)

And, I had never contemplated tossing fresh thyme into a cocktail.  

But Thrasher, whose creations are dubbed “relentlessly innovative” by StarChefs.com, loves to incorporate seasonal ingredients into his creations and prides himself on the 14 varieties of house-made bitters at his bar.

He was kind enough to share his recipe, so there’s no need for us to be thirsty in “Thymes Like These.”

"Thymes Like These"

1oz Citadelle gin

1 oz Coccchi Americano

3 tablespoons Thyme-Lime Mixture

Drops of Kaffir-Lime Bitters, to taste

Place all ingredients in a shaker with ice. Shake and strain into a chilled cocktail glass.

 

Thyme-Lime Mixture (adapted from Thrasher's recipe)

1 cup simple syrup

Large bunch of thyme, washed and patted dry

¼ cup freshly squeezed lime juice

Heat simple syrup until it comes to a gentle boil. Add thyme leaves. Reduce heat and let simmer for 10 minutes. Strain through a sieve or chinois. Add lime juice and cool before using.

Note: Kaffir-Lime Bitters can be purchased, on-line, as such emporiums as Cocktail Kingdom.   

Celebrating (The) Napoleon

Too bad that Elvis has left the building. The guy would have flipped over the Peanut and Banana Napoleon at db Bistro Moderne in New York City.

 

                         



Unlike the King, I’m not a fan of PB&B sandwiches.  I’m actually not a Napoleon fan either. (The soldier or the sweet.) But I flipped over pastry chef Ashley Brauze’s rendition of the gossamer Gallic classic – a lovely layering of banana cream, shiny and sumptuous; rum-glazed bananas; crackly feuilletine, an impossibly fine milk chocolate and peanut disc; and the coup de grace, spiced chocolate ice cream perched in crushed wafers. (Brauze cooked at El Bulli in Spain and Per Se in New York before settling down in the Daniel Boulud empire of haute cuisine.) 

I’ll tell you exactly how good this dessert was.

So good that it stood out on an evening that could best be called Sensory Overload – that would be a performance of the outrageous Book of Mormon Broadway show and a dinner entrée of Daniel Boulud’s renowned, over-the-top sirloin burger filled with braised short ribs, foie gras, and black truffles, served on a parmesan bun with pommes soufflés on the side.

Yet, still, it is Brauze’s remarkable dessert that I’m dreaming about months later.

Chick Chick Hooray!

“Nobody doesn’t like fried chicken,” said Lee Schrager, organizer of Food Network South Beach Wine & Food Festival, in the Wall Street Journal.

Good grammar aside, Schrager is probably right. Even the people who say they don’t like fried chicken really do like fried chicken; they just don’t like to admit it.

A recent article in the WSJ asks “Could fried chicken, in its many forms…be the next big trend in food?”  Well, reporter Charles Passy says that based on the menu at the Food Network New York City Food & Wine Festival held last weekend, the answer is a resounding YES.

                                    

At one of the Festival's “themed” events, called "Shake & Bake," patrons who paid the all-inclusive $145 admission fee, chowed down on the likes of Fried Chicken Thigh Burger; traditional southern-style Buttermilk Fried Chicken;  Matzo Meal-Crusted Drumsticks; two versions of Chicken in a Waffle Cone;  Korean Fried Chicken Tacos; and Backhendl with Potato-Arugula Salad (pictured here) by Blaue Gans' chef Kurt Gutenbrunner. (Photo by Arthur Bovino for The Daily Meal.)

All this talk about crispy chicks got me thinking and drooling over my own Remembrances of Fried Chickens Past.

One of the best-ever was a serendipitous encounter this summer with the perfect Backhendl, German for fried chicken, (pictured below): crisp, non-greasy, smartly seasoned, with the ideal one-two punch of dark golden crust and tender juicy meat. Fresh lemon and parsley adorned it, and a glistening, vinegar-based potato salad was on the side.

                                        

My husband and I made this bird’s acquaintance at Kirchenwirt, a small, family-run cafe in the middle of no-where, on the outskirts of Vienna, Austria.  The Kirchenwirt gasthof gets plenty of visitors despite its out-of-the-way location because it sits across the street from the Basilika Klein-Mariazell, a picturesque church and cloister founded in 1134. Though it has weathered some tough times, the elegant cluster of buildings is today both a living religious community and an architectural work of art.

                                      


It is also smack dab in the middle of a massive network of inviting hiking trails. Our Austrian friends suggested the day’s excursion and guided us on an enchanting three-hour hike that took us through gladed forests, across grassy meadows, up and down rolling hills, and through tiny hamlets such as Altenmarkt an der Triesting.  It was there we passed a lovely old home with this sign on the gate. The sign says: “I am a Rottweiler. Beyond here (this gate) Benjamin von Husarentempel will bite you.”

                                      

The hike started and ended at the Basilica Klein-Mariazell, so Kirchenwirt was a natural place for lunch.  We sat on the terrace, in warm sunshine, with cold draft beers, and gave thanks for good friends,   gorgeous landscapes, a glorious hike --- and great fried chicken.

Vernick Food & Drink: Love at First Bite

Dinner started with a little flirtation: a tiny oval of the most exquisite tuna tartare I have ever tasted: luminous bits of tuna the texture of cooked rice, judiciously moistened with sesame oil and a touch of herbs. The wooing continued with grilled sourdough topped with a mint-flecked, vibrant green pea puree and wispy lardons of house-cured, crisp bacon. By the time the pork blade steak arrived, with its bitter mustard greens and sweet-tart red onion marmalade, I was totally in love with Vernick Food & Drink.

                     
                        
That’s Greg Vernick’s new Philadelphia restaurant, an internationally inspired American bistro by the accomplished chef who opened a slew of restaurants around the world for Jean-Georges Vongerichten, but who has now come home.

Open only since May, Vernick Food & Drink is a Rittenhouse Square-area, two-story townhouse, with a sleek downstairs bar with bistro windows opening to the street, an airy upstairs dining room with large windows opening onto a balcony, and a spacious rear dining room with open kitchen and counter seating.

                                           

The menu is small. The flavors are huge.

That winsome pork blade steak, crisp-edged and fork tender, seemed to lasso all the robust pork flavor that’s been bred out of today’s ordinary pigs. The wood-roasted carrots that were tossed into a salad with cornichons and an olive-flecked dressing, tasted like they had been yanked from the garden just hours before. Grilled hearts of romaine were delicious in a pas de deux with figs. And ravioli (below), crafted of delicate dough and creamy, dreamy mashed potatoes, and topped with braised lamb and butter-blessed breadcrumbs, were terrific (though possibly more terrific with a bit more seasoning?)

A luscious Butterscotch & Smoked Chocolate Parfait -- with shortbread and pecans -- showed off how the kitchen’s rousing creativity is firmly grounded in the classics. And, did I mention the shishito peppers(pictured above), those darlings of every bar and tapas menu worth its salt? Blistered and salted and paired with impossibly crispy potato chunks, they were reason enough to return to Vernick’s inviting home.

                                   

In fact, about my only beef with the experience was that I couldn’t eat everything I wanted. Ambitious though my son Nicholas and I may be, we couldn’t order nearly as many dishes as we would have liked. Next time: The olive-oiled slab of grilled sourdough topped with creamy eggplant and chanterelles; dressed beets with Moliterno cheese; and the carrot cake that’s frosted with cream cheese, fromage blanc and vanilla (I’m still kicking myself that I missed that one).

Vernick is one of the few restaurants that really can be all things to all people. You want to pop in for a handcrafted cocktail and a few nibbles after a concert or movie? Go for it. Want to dine alone without feeling self-conscious? The kitchen counter is the place. Looking for a place to dine leisurely with a group of fussy foodie friends?  Look no further.

Vernick Food & Drink. Great food, good looks, a flexible, reasonably priced menu, professional service, and a low-key but unusually hospitable ambiance.  What’s not to love?

Three Cheers (and Two Feasts) - Lobster Season is Here

To me, the first spiny lobster plucked from the California Pacific on the first Wednesday of October is as important as the first pitch at Petco Park in March. That is, VERY important.

                                      

Arriving home from vacation over the weekend, we dashed out Saturday night to Rimel’s Rotisserie in downtown La Jolla for a lobster extravaganza.  The lobster, split and grilled over mesquite wood and topped with lip-smacking salsa fresca, was tender and moist, with a lovely sweetness and unmistakable fresh ocean flavor.

Served with a little tub of melted butter, black beans, lemon wedges, rice and warm flour tortillas, it was worth waiting seven months for --- the season ends each year on the first Wednesday after March 15^th.

Also known as California spiny lobster, this cousin of the Maine lobster has razor-like bumps on its carapace and two long spiny antennae, but no large claws. Found in the waters off southern- and mid- California and Mexico’s Baja California, this species is usually about 12 inches long when they hit the restaurant plate. 

Actually, I had waited two years for my Saturday feast. I didn’t get a single local lobster last year because the prices were prohibitive (40 bucks and up for a half-lobster dinner) and the availability was next to nothing. My seafood sources, a couple of local fishermen and fish market owners, told me that Japanese buyers  snatched up the local catches and paid sky-high prices for them, leaving little for local merchants. 

                                         
                                         

I don’t know what the dynamics of that dance are this year, but I’m thrilled that the lobsters are out there, and they are of top quality. I paid $39.95 for the whole lobster (about 1 ½ pounds) dinner at Rimel’s.

The next night I paid $35 for a whole lobster dinner (pictured above) at The Fishery in nearby Pacific Beach. Two lobster pig-outs on two nights in a row --- sheer heaven.

The Fishery calls its whole spiny lobster “Puerto Nuevo-style,” meaning that it’s cooked after the fashion popularized in Puerto Nuevo, a dirt-road town about a half hour south of Tijuana, Mexico.

In truth, The Fishery’s preparation is far more sophisticated than that of Puerto Nuevo, where the cheek-by-jowl eateries often pop lobsters into smoking vats of lard and serve them alongside frijoles fried in lard. At The Fishery my spiny beast was dusted with a house blend of four types of chili powder, poached whole, split, and finished on the grill.  Each chunk that emerged from the shell was charred on the top, but emphatically juicy underneath. The salsa fresca --- tomato, onion, jalapeno, cilantro – had just the right bite. The pinto beans were served in a crisp, fluted tortilla shell, dusted with cotija cheese. 

When I was little, growing up in Boston, a Maine lobster dinner was considered the ultimate luxury. Two dinners in two nights was like Christmas coming early. 

A Shout-Out for ShopHouse

I went to lunch recently at the one and only ShopHouse Southeast Asian Kitchen (opened last fall in Washington, D.C.) with my fellow board members of the Association of Food Journalists (AFJ). I loved the bold flavors and the upbeat atmosphere.

                                          

Located in Dupont Circle, it’s a long, narrow storefront, with minimalist design and a neutral color scheme. In front are bare wooden tables that can be moved around to accommodate all group sizes. Towards the back is the kitchen and the lively assembly line where diners create their “customized” entrée in the interactive format popularized by parent company Chipotle.

The “menu” consists of a bowl of rice, chilled noodles or salad, to which is added one veggie, one sauce, a “garnish” and a “topping.”

During our lunch, Tim Wildin, Chipotle’s Director of Concept Development, explained how the ShopHouse idea grew from a “tasting trip” he made through Thailand and Malaysia with Chipotle founder and co-CEO Steve Ells. While he talked, Wildin passed around small bowls of all the main ingredients for us to taste. My favorites were the roasted Vietnamese-style pork-and-chicken meatballs, and the grilled steak laab that’s tossed in a cilantro-lime fish sauce and mixed with toasted rice. I also loved the spicy red curry sauce and the tamarind vinaigrette.

                                          

The ShopHouse selection of hot veggies is awesome: green beans with roasted chili jam and shallots; eggplant with Thai basil; charred corn with scallions; and broccoli with fermented chili. Every vegetable looked great (no steam table fatigue here) and tasted bright and fresh. Chilled green-papaya slaw and Singapore-style pickled vegetables are also available to perk up your palate and your plate. I could make an entire meal of just the veggies, and will if and when ShopHouse opensin San Diego.

At the end of the line, just before you (should) choose a lip-smacking Bruce Cost Fresh Ginger Ale as your beverage, you get to garnish your creation with a cilantro-mint-Thai-basil herb salad and a choice of crunchy roasted peanuts, toasted rice, or crispy garlic. Prices range from $6.59 for the Grilled Chicken Satay Bowl to $7.50 for the Grilled Steak Laab Bowl.

After we tasted the individual ingredients, we were invited to go through the line and create our customized bowls. While we ate, Wildin explained the SHopHouse concept in detail:

**A ShopHouse is an iconic type of architecture prevalent throughout Southeast Asia; a colonial-style building where a family lives above the market or restaurant that it runs on the ground floor. Such restaurants are usually highly specialized, with each offering a specific dish such as noodles or curries or grilled meats.

**The selection of foods reflects the popular offerings of shophouses, hawker stalls and night markets in Singapore, Bangkok, and Hanoi.

**The ShopHouse menu is gluten-free and dairy-free.

**Ingredients are “responsibly sourced” with sustainability in mind.

**The culinary team working to put ShopHouse on the map is an impressive one: Kyle Connaughton hails from the Michelin-starred The Fat Duck outside London. Nate Appleman won the James Beard Award for Rising Star Chef when he was at A16 in San Francisco; and Joel Holland from Restaurant Terroir in Jackson, WY.

                              


Wildin told the gathering of food writers that he and his partners were proceeding slowly with plans for additional ShopHouses. However, knowing the way Chipotle stormed the quality fast-food scene, I’m guessing that at least some of us will be scarfing down this delicious fare in the not-too-distant future.