Inside Nick's for an Outside Beef Sandwich

The narrow streets of South Philadelphia are one way and just wide enough for four cars side by side. Only one lane is open, however. On one side, cars are parked along the curb as they might be anywhere; on the other side they are completely double parked. At eleven in the morning there were plenty of gaps along the curb while the middle of the street was still chock a block. How did the inside cars get out? It was a mystery. The system must work, somehow.

"Tony, what's your favorite sandwich shop?"

"For beef, it's Nick's. They start with prime steamship round, roast it and serve it on a kaiser roll with aged provolone cheese. You want it wet."

Tony Catelli's father's shop was located at the same intersection of 20th Street and Jackson in South Philadelphia. Tony knew what he was talking about.

From the street, Nick's looks like a neighborhood bar. We parked nearby on the single file side of the street. Inside it looks like a neighborhood bar, except for the carving station between the bar in front and a small seating area in back. Two guys were prepping the roasted steamship rounds for lunch.



"Can I order an end cut?"

"Ask for an 'out.'"

We sat in back and ordered french fries with gravy, broccoli rabe, peppers, and wet beef sandwiches all around. Sandwiches with and without cheese and one with outside beef. Our waitress was concerned about the order for the 'out.' First, it wasn't always available; second, it was spicier. It was available, it was spicier and it was excellent.

I would go back to Nick's just for the fries with gravy with broccoli rabe on the side. But I would be thinking about that outside beef.

Conch Chowder at The Strip

"For the first time in my life, I envy my brother." Colin sat at the bar in the Strip House; his brother was chef de cuisine in the restaurant. I like eating at bars: the conversation is usally good and sometimes the food is exceptional. The bartender recommended the beef but I was in the Conch Republic and in the mood for something local. Conch chowder. The New York chef started with a Manhattan chowder base, spiked it with bacon and toasted corn. The toasted corn was magic.

So Colin ditched New York in January to hang out with his bro at The Reach Resort in Key West. Good call.

Craig's World Famous Super Fish Sandwich

The Garmin navigator had me going in the right direction for about an hour. Somewhere outside Fort Lauderdale it redirected me north (and probably back to destination from the night before). The cheerful lady at the toll booth confirmed my suspicions and I turned navigator off and turned the car around. So I lost the better part of an hour on my way to the Keys. South of Miami I started looking for a place for lunch. The billboard in Islamorada heralding a great fish sandwich was the sign I was looking for.

The mid afternoon traffic was light at Craig's but the place looked promising.

CRAIG'S WORLD FAMOUS
SUPER FRIED FISH SANDWICH (6 oz.) 10.95
Dolphin or Catfish on grilled whole wheat bread,
with American cheese, tomatoes, and tartar sauce.
Grilled or Blackened Add $1.00
Fresh Local Grouper or Yellowtail Add $5.00

A young couple sat at the bar. "I don't want dolphin."

"Don't worry, it's not Flipper. It's Mahi Mahi. A fish, like the one in that picture." They ordered dolphin.

I ordered grilled local grouper, without cheese. The sandwich arrived standing up and with good reason. Hauling it in required the same finesse needed to fly fish. The grouper fillets, tomatoes and tartar sauce were devilishly difficult to handle but totally worth the effort. Hot grouper, cold tomatoes and warm tarter sauce on crispy whole wheat toast is excellent. Maybe the cheese is recommended to hold everything together. I'll stop in on my way back to find out.



Craig's is located at mile marker 90.5 on US Highway 1 in Tavernier (Plantation Key), Florida; telephone:(305)852-9424.

Good Food, Bad Cork

"Have you ever returned a bottle?"

"I don't think so."

The wine list at Olivia's is nice. Sparkling and whites on one side and reds on the other; arranged on single spaced line by weight rather than region or variety or price. Lots from Italy, some from France and Spain, a few New World; all new to me.

We ordered two appetizers and two main courses: mussels in a roasted garlic pesto sauce and beef carpaccio with toasted capers, shaved Parmesan and arugula; pork sugo and beet spaghetti.

"How about a white with no oak and a little buttery?"

I ordered a verdicchio from Jezi.

"Woman have finer palates. Why don't you taste it?"

A swirl, a taste and a quizzical look.

"There's a lot going on here. I have never had this before. It's okay."

A mountain of mussels arrived along with a platter of carpaccio. The mussels could easily have been a main course, especially with the three wedges of toasted foccacia to soak up the broth. Better if shared at a table for four. The toasted capers added magic to the excellent carpaccio.

"The wine tastes... musty."

"I'm not getting that. Let's let it open a little more."

The pork and the spaghetti were served.

"I really don't like this wine."

"You were right. Smell the cork."

John, our waiter, confirmed the bottle was indeed corked and offered to replace it or simply remove it from our bill. So there. Sometimes a bottle does go back. John handled the matter as naturally as he picked up and folded a napkin.

Barrel Conditioned Beer at the Toad

Barrel conditioning meant nothing to me in 1978. What will remain with me always is the taste of a cider drawn from a cask at a farm in Dyfed, Wales late one afternoon that summer. Father Doxsey had volunteered a bunch of boys to help a local farmer put up hay. It was a day much like today: hot, sunny and dry. Our reward was an elixar. Cool, frothy, sour, sweet and an aftertaste which has lingered for decades.

Paul Stokeld's beer engine caught my attention as soon as I walked into the Toad in the Hole in Santa Rosa, California. It was a little early in the season for room temperature beer, but I could not resist. Paul drew a pint of Big Bear Cask Conditioned Stout. It quenched my thirst nicely.

The Toad was a convivial place. There was a long bar populated by several groups engaged in animated conversation. A good selection of vintage British rock was on the sound system, loud enough to be heard but not so loud you had to raise your voice to talk over it. Futbol was on one flat screen, football on the other. A dozen beers were on tap.

Paul's menu featured quintessential pub fare. There was a cornish pasty at the top and I wavered. Ultimately the scent of malt vinegar tilted me toward the fish and chips. I was not disappointed. For dessert I drank a cold draught of Eric's "Lips of Faith" Ale from New Belgium . The peach infusion was magic.

El El Frijoles Rocks

On the wrong side of the highway in Playa del Carmen, on the Riviera Maya, El Oasis Mariscos serves excellent tacos de camarones. The dining area is under a pergola and has about a dozen crudely fashioned wooden tables with deceptively heavy matching chairs. The menu is in Spanish and is short and shrimp tacos are the specialty. While they are sold individually, a typical order would be three. They arrive at the table quickly: small batter fried shrimp on small freshly made soft taco shells. The soft crunchy hot slighty sweet shrimp with one of the house salsas is always a delight. When I am heading south toward Tulum, I plan my day around passing that taco stand at noon.



Taco joints north of the border seldom have that appeal. El El Frijoles on Route 15 in Sargentville, Maine was an exception. I liked everything about this place. Driving past heading toward Deer Isle, I caught only the name and I laughed out loud. On the way back later in the afternoon, I got a better look at the sign, the art gallery in front and the picnic tables. Two miles further up the road I turned around and went back. The name and promise of lobster tacos were too much to ignore.

Behind the main house/art gallery facing the road was a small barn which had been converted into a taqueria. Driving past, I had not noticed how many cars we parked under the trees. Most of the picnic tables were occupied. Things were looking promising. Inside there were four very small tables (total seating for nine only); we snagged one just as the evening rain started. We ordered the daily special, haddock tacos, as well as the lobster tacos and a couple ears of native sweet corn. Memories of the taco stand in Playa floated by as we waited. My expectations were high and they were exurberantly exceeded. The taco shells were fresh, hot, and home made. The haddock was grilled then topped with a mild green chili sauce; the lobster was topped with a sweeter red chili sauce. Both were world class. And the corn was the best I had eaten all year. Since it will be a while before we can return, we ordered seconds.

Cajun Chowder in Coloma

There are no gators in Coloma, Wisconsin and nothing remotely like a bayou. But somehow the magicians in the kitchen at the Coloma Coffeehouse figured out the cajun thing anyway. Maybe it has something to do with the humitidity this summer. The chowder was packed with seafood; the broth was thick; the pepper was spot on; I had to hunt for the rice. I wish I had ordered the bowl.



Coloma Coffeehouse, 157 N Front St,, Coloma WI 54930 715/228 JAVA (5282)

Fin Special

Escolar is surfacing everywhere. Nick Macioge is making it into his special white tuna roll at Fin in Lenox, Massachusetts. But the best thing about this roll is not the fish, it is the jalapeño salsa. Minced peppers, onions, lemon, lime and olive oil. According to Nick, the key to controlling the burn is to use peppers with uncracked skins. Next time I will try it on tuna tuna.

Wicked Haddock in Bellingham

Judging from the number of foot long hot dogs I saw cross the counter at the Rosewood Restaurant in Bellingham, Massachusetts, I have no doubt they made good on a promise. But the haddock was a knock out (and well worth the wait as it was made to order). A massive fillet resting on a mountain of sweet home made onion rings. A little salt and pepper and liberal amounts of malt vinegar and I was all set. Too bad the place didn't offer a decent house brewed iced tea instead of Nestea or the sugary bottled stuff.

Jax Blue Plate in Boulder

Several days ago I was driving through an old Dallas neighborhood which had some of the same early twentieth century bungalows which give Boulder, Colorado a lot of its charm. In Dallas many of those old houses are being torn down and replaced by handsome new piles two or three times as large. In Boulder the small houses are beautifully preserved and carefully landscaped. Their owners clearly care as much about the space around their houses as the space inside them. Quality over quantity.

I love visiting Boulder. It is a cool town. A town, not a city. It is small enough to walk around comfortably. And it seems most residents do walk around. Many with dogs or kids or both. The place has a great vibe. Residents of Boulder may not feel it is important to upsize their houses but they have substantial expectations when it comes to food. Pearl Street is a fine place to stroll, especially if you are looking for a great meal. I have had several at Jax Fish House. Chef Rosenberg has a lot of fun fusing flavors from all over.



My most recent adventure started with one foot in Mexico and the other in Japan with the "Chimi," an ahi tuna sushi roll with a chimichanga crust. Since my companions were busy with oysters, I felt absolutely no shame in keeping it all to myself.



Chef Rosenberg must like working an Amerasian melange because the next dish featured Maine scallop ceviche on a bed of avocado cucumber salsa and topped with tobiko. It was mindnumbingly good. Then, with my feet firmly planted in on the eastern side of the Pacific rim, I devoured the so called Tuesday "blue plate" special (shown at the top of the page): New Zealand Blue Nose with a Thai curry sauce. My only complaint was the color of the plate. No blue.



The short walk to Jax had offered a quick trip around the Pacific. I had absolutely no plans for any other excursions that night, but it was not to be. France beckoned. One of my companions ventured forth and made an awesome discovery: a flourless chocolate brownie topped with crème brûlée. Mae was right: too much of a good thing is wonderful.

Apparently the powers at Jax have as tough a time with numbers as they do with colors: seven nights in a week but only four blue plate specials. No matter. They have all the important stuff right. I'll be back. It's on my route.

Keegans Ale and Le Canard in Kingston

Gout is a helpful companion. Earlier this month, we celebrated my brother's birthday at the Crab Claw in Saint Michaels, Maryland. I tucked into more blue crab than prudent and Gout came around the next day to remind me to behave. Several years ago in Venice, zuppa di fagioli prompted Gout to persuade me to remain within gimping distance of the Hotel Ala and not ramble off cross country. Thanks to the extra week, I fell in love with a city I might otherwise have dismissed as an interesting museum. Today Gout has focused my attention on the fine ale and rack of lamb I enjoyed yesterday in Kingston, New York.



The evening started around six at the small bar inside Keegans Brewery. A pint of Old Capital (Kingston was the first capital of New York) followed by a pint of Belgian style white beer. The Old Capital was refreshing (and glasses around the bar were refreshed regularly); the white beer was an eminently acceptable local beer but lacked the depth of Blanche de Chambly from Quebec. The vibe at Tom Keegan's place was one which craft brew joints everywhere would do well to follow: super casual and genuinely warm with a nice mix of music set low enough for normal conversation. Everyone seemed to know each other. No one objected to the peanut shells covering the floor.



Dinner at Le Canard Enchaine proved to be an ideal place to finish the day and conclude the week. Chef/owner Jean-Jacques Carquillat met us at the door and led us to a table in the bar. The mood was unabashedly happy. The rack of lamb was one of the night's specials and tasted great. It was served medium rare with a thick red wine sauce and accompanied by sauteed spinach and mashed potatoes. Now that I know where to find Le Canard, I plan to waddle back often.

Tony Luke's

Once upon a time, the Eagle Café at the corner of Fenn and Fourth in Pittsfield, Massachusetts served a great sandwich. The aroma of grilled onions greeted you at the door. We always sat at the bar and watched Nick, the proprietor, slow cook sliced onions on one side of the griddle and fry up Italian sausage patties on the other side. The two were married on a warm bun and crowned with a slice of provolone. It’s been at least twenty five years since I last entered the Eagle Café. Now I do my best duplicate Nick’s sandwich with fresh Mazzeo’s sausage patties, sometimes using the sweet other times the hot.

Today at Tony Luke’s in Philadelphia, I encountered a worthy companion to Nick’s sandwich: Italian link sausage (sliced into strips the long way), sautéed peppers and provolone on a hoagy bun. Outstanding.



Tony’s is definitely a guy place. At noon, I reckoned males outnumbered females ten to one. I’m told there are more women at night but I suspect they are humoring their dates after the game or a night on the town. The menu tells story: all manner of cheese steaks. Try the roast pork and broccoli rabe with sharp provolone. Perhaps as a sign of the times, the prices on the wall menu were covered. Everything is going up. Judging from the billboard riding on top of the restaurant, the owners still have an excellent sense of humor.

Rogue in Ellenville

Chef Marcus Guiliano at the Aroma Thyme Bistro hosted a feast when Rogue craft brewers came to Ellenville. The five course menu was launched with Kells Irish Lager (which Marcus had on tap) to complement Marcus's spinach and apple salad with two blue cheeses (Rogue Crater Lake and Smokey Blue); the apple notes in the Kells were great with both the greens and the cheeses.

The Uber Pilsner cleansed the palate on the way to the next course: soba noodles with stir fried mushrooms and Long Island micro greens paired with Morimoto Soba Ale. The buckwheat noodles worked but the beer didn't. The beer was true to its ingredients but they are better in the noodles.

Next we had Emperor Fish with a Thai style coconut curry sauce accompanied by Rogue's Morimoto Imperial Pilsner. Both were outstanding and worked very well together. I will definitely be drinking the Imperial again. Morimoto has a big golden beer worthy of an Iron Chef.

At this point, Marcus interrupted the meal with a bonus 3 litre bottle he had been cellaring for three years: Hazelnut Brown Nectar. This could have been dessert. Rich and heavy with a hint of nutty sweetness.

Next came a couple of ales and a lamb steak with polenta and roasted onions (gotta love the onions). The Dead Guy and Saint Rogue Red both were up to the task. I'm not sure I was though.

Now came dessert: Sherry & Fruit Trifle with a glass of Chocolate Stout. Officially, there was no choice but to love the stout because the representative from Rogue had her picture on the bottle. Maybe it was the trifle which pushed me over the edge. Whatever it was, I was pinned to the mat and had to cry uncle. I never even tried the Old Crustacean. Marcus confided he still has some in the cellar.

Branzino in Boulder

Branzino resonates strongly. Several years ago in Venice, a waiter at Da Raffaele recommended branzino carpaccio. It was served in paper thin slices with olive oil, lemon and garnished with minced tomatoes and capers. I can still taste it. With that memory lingering, I have paused when ordering suzuki sashimi at Fin in Lenox, Massachusetts but Nick Macioge has never disappointed me. Apparently the Adriatic and Sea of Japan are far enough apart for both to fit comfortably on my palate.

As a first time visitor to Radda Trattoria, a hip restaurant in Boulder, Colorado, I asked our waitress what would be the best item on the menu. Without hesitation she offered branzino. A Mediterranean fish in the Rocky Mountains? Before arriving at Radda, my companions had mentioned how good the wild boar was. I thought she might retreat but the lass stood her ground. I accepted her recommendation. It was excellent. The skin was crispy, the bones had been removed and replaced with fresh rosemary, thyme and lemon. Cippolini onions on the side made Chef Matthew Jansen's creation a memorable meal.

Bruschetta and Beer

Carolina’s has been at the intersection of Chapman and West In Garden Grove, California for thirty years. For the past several, Tim Ibrahim has been proprietor. He does nothing in half measures. He grew up in the neighborhood and worked in F&B at Disneyland, so he knows his clientele. They expect large portions and big variety. Tim has built the largest assortment of beer in Orange County (about 200 beers). He has dozens of North American craft brews and good assortments of German, Belgian and British beers, as well as novelty beers from around the world.



Be forewarned: the well drink pours are generous and the pasta portions are enormous. You may want to steer toward pizza and beer. Bruschetta is best on freshly baked pizza bread. It is great with a bottle of Orval.

Berkshire Bar Burgers

Great Hamburgers in Pittsfield, Lenox and Lee



There is no better place in Berkshire County to get primed for a hamburger than the intersection of North Street and Linden in Pittsfield. Mark Papas mans the charcoal grill at The Lantern (455 North Street, 413-448-2717). His exhaust fan delivers an aromatic invitation to purchase more effectively than any billboard, print ad or radio spot. The 6 ounce burgers are formed by hand and grilled on an iron grate. They have all the appeal of the best backyard burgers, they are available year round and they can be accompanied by Bass, Blue Moon or Sam Adams on draught or about a dozen others in bottles. The Lantern Bar and Grill has been in Mark’s family for decades. It has a comfortable lived-in vibe with cool jazz on the sound system and a collection of oil paintings and photographic portraits on the walls.



The best burger in Lenox is at Bistro Zinc (56 Church Street, 413-637-8800). Chef Michael Stahler gives every bit as much attention to his burgers as he does to any of the other dishes on his eclectic menu (Shepherd’s Pie made with shredded duck confit and Pei Moules Frites are also on the lunch menu). The 8 ounce patties are made from fresh Angus beef, topped with Tillamook cheddar cheese and two strips of Jones Cherry Wood Smoked bacon and a couple of tempura batter onion rings. On the side you have a choice of either a mountain of fries or a mixed green salad. The bar at Zinc has been a hip place to hang out for the better part of a decade. True to form, it has an impressive selection of French brandies and single malt whiskies. For the burger and beer patron, there is enough on tap or in bottles to satisfy.



Further down county in Lee, you find tasty burgers at Moe’s Tavern (10 Railroad Street, 413-243-6637). But you will need to look hard for them because Moe’s is all about beer. Tavern keeper Josh Cohen’s latest tally is over sixty craft brews in bottles and five on tap (numbers he hopes to double in the near future). Moe’s has been in business for just a few months and has been bucking conventional wisdom by offering little of the ordinary (Budweiser, Miller and Sam Adams are available but move slowly; Coors never crossed the threshold) and lots of the extreme (like Stone Brewing's Arrogant Bastard and Dogfish Head's 120 Minute IPA). He also offers fresh burgers and locally made hotdogs. The Sliders hit the spot. There are three hand formed 2 ounce patties on potato flour buns with basic fixings. That and a bottle of Blanche de Chambly and I'm good.

Beer Batter Fish at the Velvet Lips

Chef Matt Michaud at the Velvet Lips in Fort Atkinson, Wisconsin makes the best fried perch anywhere; walleyed pike too. This is no small feat in a state where the Friday Night Fish Fry is a ritual. People here take their fish and their beer seriously.



Chef Matt uses Spotted Cow Farmhouse Ale from New Glarus in a nappe batter. The key is to keep the batter thin (be generous with the beer). The perch has a distinctive voice and the Spotted Cow sings harmony. The fish comes with a choice of french fries or hash browns and cole slaw. The hash browns are excellent.



So when I am sitting in Bob Langer's chair at the Trim and Style on Friday morning and Bob asks where I will be having fish tonight, I will reply "At the Lips."

Dinner at the Dogfish Head in Rehoboth

Chef Marcel makes the best peas I have had in a very long time. Bright green, al dente, seasoned with porcini mushrooms and black pepper; served hot hot with oyster mushroom ravioli.

Stripped to its essentials, Dinner with Marcel, the chef's prix fixe menu, might have been read from the chalk board in an English pub: peas, steak, and pudding. Even the setting might make an Englishman nostalgic: an alehouse in a seaside town off season. Chefs across the Atlantic might want to take advantage of the strong pound and inexpensive air fares to see how pub fare is being prepared at the Dogfish Head in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware.

Chef Marcel Lavalle and Sous Chef Marc Jordan are doing very good things with food. The peas were followed by a grass fed t-bone steak. (The beef grazed locally in Sussex County and fed on grain used at the Dogfish Head Brewery.) The steaks were served with thinly sliced roast potatoes and chunked carrots prepared in a DFH Indian Brown Ale reduction (a pint of the IBA accompanied this course). We finished the meal with creme caramel in a white chocolate rum sauce.

For fun, we sampled several of the Dogfish draughts: Shelter Pale Ale (an excellent starter), Raison d'Etre (a good reason to lodge nearby), 120 Minute IPA (a massive beer) and Fort (a potent second dessert). There are a couple dozen more specialty brews to look foward to on future visits.

Come on over, lads; learn a thing or two from the dudes in Delaware. It is easy to imagine what I would miss were I in the UK.

The Arb, the Apollo and Tooo Chinoise in Oberlin

Eisenhower’s Interstate Highway system shrank driving times and boosted economies along its path. While the topography changes dramatically from East to West, the human developments along the I-roads are completely reassuring: the same Mc Donalds, Marriotts, and Mobils everywhere. I have often thought about driving cross country on US 20 instead of I 90, taking time to see the towns change along with the landscape, but I am always seduced by the fast route. This time the travel genies conspired to slow us down and encouraged us to spend a day looking around.

The VW required new brakes around 40,000 miles, so I was not surprised that it would need new brakes again now that the car had 75,000 miles. I usually have the car serviced before an extended road trip but this time I was unable to schedule an appointment. So we hit the road anyway. When we arrived at the Holiday Inn in Elyria, Ohio the rear brakes made a hideous noise. Spitzer VW in Amherst agreed to look at the car immediately. As chance would have it, the necessary parts would not be in stock until the following day and we were only 8 miles from Oberlin.

While it is only a few miles south of I 90, the approach to Oberlin bears the signs of a town which has very much been passed by. There are no strip malls. The slate roofs of barns and farm houses sag, threatening collapse, the cows long gone and most of the farmers gone with them, their lands committed to row crops but no livestock. The houses on the outskirts are in better shape but most of have seen better days. Oberlin proper, however, appears to be healthy and not much changed from Eisenhower’s time. The college and commercial establishments are centered on a very large square populated with mature trees, a few random students and a professor or two.

We had lunch at Tooo Chinoise. I expected to find some cool restaurants in a college town. This menu caught my eye with Zajiang Mien and Shrtz Tou, two dishes I hadn’t seen since I lived in Taiwan. I over ordered and loved each bite. Our waitress recommended a walk in the arboretum on the outside of town (but only a few minutes walk from the center). The temperature was in the sixties and all the snow and most of the ice had melted. Shorts and tee shirts for the students; no leashes for the dogs. We hung out there until dusk. Later we went to the flicks.

The Apollo Theatre is a classic: lights from the marquee cascade over the ticket booth. Shows cost $3 and a large popcorn is only $2.50. The place seats around 900 and I suspect there were about 100 there on a Monday while most students were still away for winter vacation. I am Legend with Will Smith was not legendary material (Night of the Living Dead crossed with Twelve Monkeys), but it was perfect for that old movie house. If I lived near Oberlin, I would be a regular.