Questioning the Authority of a Venerated Institution While Considering (big) Bottom

There is a restaurant in suburban Cleveland that is probably exactly the same age as I am. (That's a long time for a restaurant, and no comments from the peanut gallery, thank you very much). This place came into existence during the downward slide of the hippie heyday and is still popular with the hippie crowd, as well as families, healthy eaters, milkshake aficionados, and Cleveland East Siders.

I'm not in the restaurant review business, so I won't name names...but some readers will surely figure out which restaurant I am referring to through context clues.

The above-mentioned restaurant is considered by many to be pretty special. It has survived fires, floods, and riots. There is always a wait to get a table. It is an INSTITUTION.

Despite the fact that this institution gave me food poisoning back in the late 1980's with some out-of-date bleu cheese dressing, I brushed my food-borne suffering off to the admission that accidents happen to the best of us, and so have been willing to return to their hallowed halls.

In fact, have been there twice in the last week, mostly at the request of visiting out-of-towners who sorely miss this Cleveland institution. (I wonder if the servers think I'm a regular...?)

Though there is meat on the encyclopedic menu, "Institution Restaurante" specializes in egg and dairy-friendly vegetarian fare. Having been such an ovo-lacto vegetarian for a substantial chunk of my formative years, I look upon vegetarian entrees as a sort of comfort food. I know it's chic for some chefs to lambast vegetarians for their lack of adventure in culinary affairs, but I happen to have never met a vegetable I didn't like, so I'll gladly make a meal of them, even though I cannot count myself among the ranks of the vegetarian elite.

And I made a meal of some vegetables tonight. Actually, I selected a vegan entree. But the mix of brown rice, kale, broccoli, carrots, and mushrooms sounded so substantial without being an overly-heavy gut-buster, that I thought it would be right up my alley.

Well, kids... the entree was in my neighborhood, but it weren't up my alley. Uh unh. I slowed down and tasted, tried really hard to figure out why I didn't love what I thought, for certain, would hit the spot.

Now, I already knew that "Institution Restaurante" doesn't salt their food. This is another cardinal sin among chefly types, but whatever...I can get over it. Just give me a saltshaker at the table and I'll forgive you that you failed to release precious flavor via this magical mineral during the cooking process. I won't bother to tell them that the low-sodium health rules don't apply to folks whose adrenals tick like mine. It's really a waste of words when I can augment the situation table-side.

It wasn't the no-salt issue...so, what was wrong with my entree?? I tasted. I tasted again. I added hot sauce. I tasted again. Vinegar? Nope...

Oh. My. Sweet. Savior.

I figured it out...There was not even the tiniest mince of garlic in my dinner. Nor was there any onion or shallot. There was not a trace of depth to my meal!

As a music fan, I have come to realize the importance of bass within the underlying rhythm of a song, especially within popular or rhythm-and-blues styles. The old dudes call it "bottom". Bass, or bottom, rounds out a song. It makes it resonate full and round. Bottom can prevent a tune that should not be a thin aria from turning into a thin aria. BOTTOM IS VERY IMPORTANT.

I consider pungent elements like garlic, onion, and shallot to be "bottom" to the composition of my meal. Unless it's the light aria of a dessert or palate-cleansing course, I want it there, rounding everything out...making the flavor experience full. I can even deal with a delicate cook, who uses these elements judiciously for a subtle effect. Subtlety is fine, but please, for the love of all that is holy... GIVE ME SOME FLAVOR!

This shakes my faith in my fellow man. How can we have made this restaurant an institution while they snub their nose at an essential note in the flavor symphony? Is the ambiance in this casual joint really that great?? Are they resting on the laurels of a reputation for "healthful" cuisine...a fact which seems so important to our national health right now? Is location a more important factor in a restaurant's success than actual cuisine?

I am reminded of a quote that I will surely botch (and I cannot tell you who said it) but it was something along the lines of:

"Two things always look better in the movies: War and Institutions"

So, next time I'll rent the movie.

And enjoy my vegetables with a pungent garlic dip.

The White Wine "X Files"

I am not a wine connoisseur. On the contrary, I am a broke-as-a-joke cook who sometimes picks up a bottle at the grocery to complement(??? I hope!) my dinner selection for the evening.

Since I don't know what I am doing but am not yet ready to commit to wine-tasting courses or throw myself into the hands of my local merchant who needs a buck as badly as I do, I thought I'd confer with friends...in an organized sort of way.

So, I made up a basic, writable word file and e-mailed it to some friends who seem to appreciate adult grape juice, and included 3 basic rules:

-Give us your name (so we know whose comments we are reading)
-Just give us info ONLY on the wine you are drinking tonight (or drank last night), so we can be assured that the info is fresh in your memory and not some clouded rendition of a memorable evening 2 weeks ago. This also keeps us from having an unwieldy laundry-list of only one person's selections.
-Give us pertinent info...winery name, vintage, region, price, varietal, etc.

That's it...that's all. Can't wait for the advice to start pouring in.

Breakfast of Champions: Blendo Mendo

Mi esposo once recounted that as a child, left to his own devices one day to find an after-school snack, he settled on the idea of a big glass of chocolate milk. He wondered, however, what would happen if he mixed his Nestle Quick and milk in the blender instead of stirring it up in the glass with a spoon. To his delight, the result was a light, frothy concoction, far superior to the in-glass mix-up. He began calling his creation: "Blendo Mendo".

I've recently adapted esposo's Blendo Mendo technique to suit my own tastes.

My variation on the Blendo Mendo gives me a shot of nutrition as a snack, as a light lunch, or most usually, as a breakfast that takes 5 seconds to prepare yet leaves me feeling light, totally satisfied, and ready to go kick the day in the cajones.

So, what exactly do I put in this Blendo Mendo that is inspiring me to wax so celebratory over it?

It's a scoop of whey protein powder, a couple of ice cubes, 6 oz. of water, some fresh fruit, and if I am under the spell of a powerful sweet tooth, a scant tablespoon of low-sugar preserves. I drop it all into a very UN-fancy, 1960's-era Osterizer blender that I probably found at a garage sale in my early twenties, give everything a whirl. According to my research, even my most decadent creation, with preserves and even some nut butter for a thicker texture, tops out at a paltry 225 calories and is brimming with easily-assimilated protein and vitamins. Truly, if that's not a "breakfast of champions", then I don't know what is.

"Wait a minute," you might be thinking, "isn't this Blendo Mendo concept really just a smoothie?"

Well, yeah. But you are not allowed to call my awesome breakfast of champions a "smoothie". Puh-lease! I have fought the whole smoothie concept for a long time. I hated the name..."smoothie" sounds cloying and precious to me. I hated that it was trendy. I hated the fact that most commercial smoothies, billed as healthful because they have some fruit, are so laden with sugar that you may as well drink a 64oz. jumbo soda, as far as caloric intake is concerned. But mostly, it was the name. I just didn't like it.

Now, Blendo Mendo...that I like. I like that mi esposo gets a kick out of the fact that I have co-opted one of his culinary discoveries. I like the fact I can get myself some healthy nourishment without having to heat up or mess up the kitchen during the hot and lazy summer season. I like the fact that I am getting nearly 1/3 of my daily requirement for protein, nearly 100% of my B vitamins, and a good little infusion of vitamin C for a paltry sum of calories. Oh, yeah...low-fat, too, by the way. And it's fast, easy, tasty, and filling.

I don't know many people who don't have a blender lurking in the dark recesses of a cupboard somewhere. Why don't you use it for a Blendo Mendo breakfast of champions? If you are going to complain about cleaning the blender (no one's favorite chore), just get a cheap bottle-brush washer and literally give it a quick hit the second you are done blending. Honestly, it's faster and easier than loading breakfast dishes into the dishwasher.

Seriously...c'mon everybody...Blendo Mendo.

A Day Like Today

When I pull up ancient, dusty memories from the deepest recesses of my mind, most of them are memories of summertime. I think I cherish and hold on to these great warm weather memories because I just love everything about summer in Cleveland, Ohio...although I'll grant that the season is far too brief.

Today has all the makings of a perfect summer Sunday. I hiked with one of the dogs in a quiet woodland setting wearing short shorts and shirtsleeves. I tended to the riotous flower garden in the back, hoping that with enough water, it will display some beauty amid the chaos in the coming weeks. I poured myself a frosty-cold brew in the late afternoon. I threw a brisket onto the grill, hoping it will slowly meld into a barbecued delight over the next several hours. I have all the components of a veggie-rich caponata on my kitchen counter. Every window in the house is flung wide open. The flag out front is swaying on a not-too-humid breeze. The children next door are playing the radio... so moments of energetic music waft over the fence. I absolutely live for days like this.

Even without central air conditioning, I make it a point to rarely complain about the heat. This season is otherwise too perfect and altogether too fleeting at this northern latitude.

I hope you'll fire up your grill or dare to don your short shorts, or report to your local ice-cream stand and just try to squeeze every bit of awesomeness out of a day like today.