It's always nice to have a cab driver who knows his or her way to your desired destination. The gentleman and his wife who drove us to dinner at Lilly's knew much more than that. A former limo driver, Bob had driven to - and dined at - many of Louisville's best restaurants. He pronounced Lilly's one of the city's "top tables," and offered a number of additional recommendations I'll keep in mind for future trips.
"Top Table." Is a reputation like that a blessing or a curse? Does it unduly raise a new customer's expectations? I had heard great things about Lilly's seasonal and French-inspired Southern farm-to-table food for years. With foodie friend Cindie as my dining companion, this was finally my opportunity to try it. I had initially suggested Lilly's for lunch - the 3-course $15 prix fixe sounded like a grand bargain. But after weighing timing and traffic issues to attend Kentucky Crafted and haggling over other dinner options, we settled on Lilly's for our Saturday night dining indulgence.
To Cindie's dismay, we were shown to a small two-top where one of us (it ended up being me), was seated in the narrow path from the hostess station past the tiny bar to the majority of the restaurant's tables. When Cindie requested another unoccupied table, the hostess informed us that "her" seating that evening was "compromised" due to a number of special occasion reservations. We dutifully took our assigned seats, and I tried to ignore being jostled as customers were led to their tables.
While Cindie and I negotiated over wine possibilities, we both had one of the restaurant's featured drinks, a white grape Cosmo. Lovely to look at (bad blogger - I failed to take a photo), the pinkish Finlandia vodka cocktail was garnished with frozen grapes. I think Cindie enjoyed it more than I did (ok, but not what I'd call a memorable craft cocktail). However, props to our server for bringing us tastes of two different wines so I could persuade Cindie to go with a red. And for comping Cindie's second Cosmo, which came only after she finally caught his attention and had to remind him she had ordered it.
Cindie is all about the grits. So for her starter, she ordered the oysters and Weisenberger grits over sauteed spinach with chipotle butter. The perfectly fried oysters and cheesy grits made this one of our top two dishes of the evening.
I, of course, couldn't resist the foie - in this preparation served over light miniature corn pancakes with a pear compote and something crunchy on top. The corn cakes were my favorite part of the dish, which didn't quite sing to me as a whole, or fulfill my foie expectations. Smelling the thick fries cooked in duck fat and served in a humble coffee mug at the next table, I might have been guilty of bad ordering.
For our mains, Cindie chose the sea scallops over pancetta-flecked pumpkin risotto. They arrived cold in the middle. Our server apologetically whisked them away and returned with them warm, but they were more moist and mushy than she expected from a seared scallop. Cindie also wasn't a fan of the sweet pumpkin risotto, probably made sweeter by apple cider and brown butter, and said she would have been happier to have had a couple more plates of the grits and oysters she'd had for her first course.
I have a tendency to gravitate to lamb, so when it popped up on the evening's menu (it wasn't on the online menu I'd been drooling over), I leapt for it. It wasn't until we were well into our red wine sampling and negotiations that I fully registered that this would be a braised lamb shank, not a cut I could order rare. And it would be huge. Still, it came with Weisenberger grits and was topped with the same thin white and green straws of fried onion-y goodness that had garnished Cindie's oyster starter, which we learned from our server were leeks. (Note to self: must try to make fried leek slivers at home.)
I knew I would have to stop mid-way through my Flinstonian hunk o' lamb if I was to have any hope of trying dessert. A good thing I did.
This chocolate lava cake with house-made pistachio ice cream, a drizzle of caramel sauce, and a small fresh thyme garnish there in the upper left-hand corner turned out to be our other top two dish of the night. Fortunately, it's offered in this "mini" size, which we split. Props again to our server, who comped dessert after our "mixed" experience. Still, service overall felt a little awkward. I didn't expect stuffy service from Lilly's, but what we got seemed more amateur than what I would have hoped for. It's nice to have a hefty bill reduced if the restaurant gives you a freebie or two, but mark-downs can't elevate a middling experience to a memorable one.
So . . . did we hit Lilly's on a bad night? Did we just order badly? Was our experience deflated by inflated expectations? Were we given short shrift as two women dining alone, or neglected in favor of regular patrons commanding more attention?
And, darn, why are my photos so crappy? Simple inexperience? Or amplified by nervousness trying to photograph unobtrusively in a high-end restaurant?
Relieved to change into our sweat pants back at the hotel after a far more circuitous return cab ride (at least the cab driver was playing the WFPL Saturday night blues show on the radio), we compared answers to these quandries.
But the real question was: Would we be up for an all-you-can-eat brunch the next morning?
Our next stop was The World's Second Most Awesome Art Market where, with no tats to show (well, Cindie's single small, tasteful one was covered by her turtleneck), we definitely felt old. But the facility where it was held, Louisville Glassworks, was a real find.
It's home to three glass studios, including one for architectural glass (plus they have a mobile studio - how cool is that?). It sponsors a variety of workshops, including an upcoming BYO - Blow Your Own . . . Beer Mug workshop. The gift shop was sorely tempting (they also have an online store). A jazz club serves tapas on the lower level, upper floors apparently house condos and a boutique hotel, and our server at the Carolina Shrimp Co. told us they sometimes host rooftop parties.
The afternoon was still young, so next we decided to check out 21c, the "museum-hotel" whose owners are supposed to be bringing the same concept to downtown Cincinnati (adjacent to the Contemporary Arts Center and across from the Aronoff in the old Metropole Hotel). I thumbed through Velocity (the free weekly Louisville entertainment tabloid we'd picked up at lunch), for an address for Cindie's GPS. But as we neared the place, I saw something that made me take notice.
On the corner we spotted Proof on Main, the hotel's much touted bar/restaurant, and knew we must be in the right place. Housed in converted tobacco and bourbon warehouses, the hotel is part of a thriving new art gallery row on West Main Street that I will definitely make a point of exploring further on another visit to Louisville.
Upon walking through these doors at the 21c, you pass a check-in counter, but are essentially in the first of several gallery spaces. The museum is dedicated to collecting and exhibiting 21st century art (hence its name), some of it interactive and media-driven. Even the bathrooms (which came in second in the 2008 Top 10 Best Restrooms in America list - yes, there is such a thing), are unique, as we learned from a patron as we walked the hall. The men's urinal is just on the other side of that hall; there is one-way glass so the men can see out but the women can't see in - although they don't necessarily know that.
So what about those red penguins? We just had to ask. And we learned the owners were at an art show in Italy when they were captivated by the red penguins shown by the Cracked Art group. They bought 40 or 45 afterward, most of which are perched on top of the building or above the entrance. "But we have about a dozen we play with," the concierge told us. Repeat clients who they know have a sense of humor might discover a red penguin in their shower. Or a couple getting married might be greeted by a pair dressed in wedding dress and tux. He said the owners plan to commission more penguins for their Cincinnati hotel, although they will be in a different color. For more photos of the penguins, a video of the hotel's annual birthday pajama party, and more, check out their facebook page.
With a little more time to kill before we could check into our more affordable suburban hotel, I suggested a drink at either the Seelbach or the Brown. Cindie opted for the Brown.
Built in 1923 and recently renovated, the Brown Hotel is the essence of old Southern opulence in Louisville. We made our way to the lobby, where the bar prominently displayed an array of bourbons. I'm not much of a Bourbon drinker. But when you're in Louisville, at a place like the Brown, that is simply what one does.
Unless you're one of the young men who sat down next to us. "I've driven all the way from New Jersey to have a real mint julep," said one. They said they were on their way to Utah, tasting their way across the country to Utah. Since their last stop before Louisville was the Woodford Reserve distillery, we weren't sure whether the tasting focus of their extended road trip was food or drinks.
But they did order a Hot Brown, which was invented at the Brown hotel. I was tickled to read in the wikipedia entry that Bobby Flay failed to prevail when he challenged the hotel's chefs to a Throw Down. Sometimes it's best not to mess with tradition.
Next stop: Lilly's.
I'll get to the red penguins. But to recap my fine - and full - weekend of art and dining, it's probably best to start at the beginning.
My best-friend-since-the-8th-grade Cindie always did a lot of traveling with her mom. Beach trips. Colorado & New Mexico trips. Trips to historical sites. Sometimes just mid-day lunch getaways without their husbands. Attending the annual art and craft show in Louisville, Kentucky Crafted, was an early March favorite. Cindie's been soldiering on since her mother passed away in August. When she asked me to go with her this year, of course I said yes.
Kentucky Crafted included an impressive array of visual art and artisan crafts - photography, jewelry, woodworking, glass, some exquisite baskets. So what did I buy?
I have a great fondness for wooden spoons. These are made of reclaimed wood, well-shaped and well-seasoned - unlike those dry white machine-made things I find most places. I've always admired similar ones when cooking in Cindie's kitchen, and I know they work well. That oval-looking walnut item at top left is a bowl-scraper.
Turns out there was also a food aisle at the art show, with many free samples to be had. Barbecue and hot sauces in abundance, preserves and pickled items of many stripes, several booths offering up chocolates and other sweets - many featuring bourbon, a signature Kentucky ingredient.
So what did I succomb to? Cheese, of course. I had to wait in line to sample Kenny's artisanal cheese. But one small cube of the smoked blue gouda convinced me buy a hunk. Cindie recommended the aged cheddar, and I decided to go for it too. Then she tasted the Tomme de Nena, a cheese neither of us had heard of before (or knew how to pronounce), motioned to me to try it, and I added it to my basket. At this point, I was short by just one cheese for the "buy 4 - get the 5th free" deal, so I selected the St. Jerome and got the bonus chive-onion Jack.
Cindie is a strategic traveler. She had scoped out the info that U of L would be playing a 2:00 basketball game at the same venue as KY Crafted - the ridiculously enormous KY Expo Center - which also that day had a home & garden show, a houseboat show, and some event involving cows going on. Thank goodness the Six Flags season hadn't started yet. We were glad we'd arrived early for KY Crafted. When we finished around noon, we were ready to eat.
So we headed to Carolina Shrimp Co., an unpretentious place Cindie & her mom had stumbled on once. An order-at-the-counter and they-bring-it-to-you-when-it's-ready place. A place with a roll of paper towel on every table in place of napkins.
We split this bowl of rich lobster bisque.
And an order of hush puppies.
Cindie loved her fried oyster po' boy.
I chose steamed shrimp - simple and perfectly cooked, with diced green pepper and onion, and a nice bit of kick from the shrimp boil seasoning.
The sky was blue, the sun was shining. The temperature was nearing 50, and we had just tasted the beach. I shed my winter coat, and we were ready to explore more of Louisville . . .
When I decided to dive into fish this Lent, it was partly to prod myself into cooking more fish. Which I've been doing to an extent. But I also wanted to make a point of trying some specialty items offered by others this time of year.
Knowing this evening wouldn't lend itself to cooking (must pack and be ready to leave for Louisville by 8:30 tomorrow morning), I opted for the fried cod sandwich from Izzy's at lunch instead.
I've been going to Izzy's since my father introduced me to it the second time we moved to Cincinnati, when I was in sixth or seventh grade. A long, narrow hole-in-the-wall, with tubs of pickles and sauerkraut on the formica tables, the original upper Race St. location of the deli was presided over by the cantankerous Izzy Kadetz himself. You never got a check; when you finished eating, you went up to Izzy at the cash register and just told him what you'd had. If you ordered carryout, he'd always try to chide you into ordering a drink. "That's where I make my money," he'd complain. Even now, with Izzy himself long gone and the operation moving to multiple, sparklier locations, the staff wears T-shirts that read: "Hurry back - got rent to pay."
Izzy's built its reputation on overstuffed corned beef sandwiches and even larger potato pancakes, which come with every sandwich, half or whole. A half is usually plenty for me, although lately I've decided it's a better value to buy a whole for lunch, then reheat half of both the sandwich and the potato cake for dinner. (Must pace oneself.) My favorite is the Spicy Delight - pastrami, Swiss, and sliced onion on rye with a relish of black and green olives, garlic, and roasted red pepper. It had always struck me as surprising that the fried cod sandwiches of this German-Jewish deli, served only on Fridays during Lent, were wildly popular. But today I decided to pass up my beloved Spicy and give one a try.
Wildly popular indeed. Anticipating it would be difficult to get a seat, I called ahead for carryout. After being put on hold for three minutes, I phoned back and managed to avoid being put on hold again by pointing out that fact. "Give us 20 minutes," I was told. When I arrived at the Main St. store at the appointed time, the line was out the door and I had to politely elbow my way inside to make my pick-up. The Izzy's on Main is always busy at lunch, but I've never seen it this crowded.
Although I'm not usually a big fan of breaded fish, this was fried cod I was happy to eat. The thick chunks of flaky fish spilled out over the edge of the accompanying rye, and the breading on the cod had a bit of kick to it.
I was under the impression that the standard way Izzy's served this sandwich was not only on rye bread but also with cheese. Not so - I guess many people just order it that way. Mine came cheese-less and with a modest smear of tartar sauce.
A lot of fried goodness on that plate, and I'm still full nine hours later. So not only do I not need to cook tonight, I don't need to eat. The better to regain my appetite for the dining marathon to come this weekend in Louisville. Must pace oneself . . .
DISCLAIMER: No iguanas, ketchup, or (alas) Ecuadorian grandmothers were involved in the making of this post.
Tonight's new episode of Bourdain's "No Reservations" compelled me to pull out some home-style Ecuadorian recipes in my possession thanks to the daughter of an ex who spent a semester in Quito (Galadriel, affectionately known as G - the daughter, not the ex) . As I recall, G laughed at us silly adults when she learned we had made the first two recipes as one dish. Guess we were confused by her circles and arrows and recipe on the back. I've typed them up per her handwriting as best I can. Sweet girl; given to semicolons; might have confused teaspoons and tablespoons.
Aguado de gallinaG's annotation next to this says: "one of my faves; very typical dish (chicken and soup)"Photo from laylita.com - check out this post for a more detailed recipe with additional mouth-watering step-by-step photos.G's recipe for Aguado de gallina
1 chicken
peas (already cooked but not too soft) (almost more like lentils)
1 carrot, cut in cubes
1 pepper, cut in cubes
onion
garlic
salt, pepper, bay leaf
cooked rice
1 chicken boullion cube
In a large saucepan make a refrito w/oil, onion, garlic; let everything fry a little and add water; when it is boiling, put in the pieces of chicken (well washed), the carrot, pepper, salt, bay leaf and pepper. When the chicken is cooked a bit add the peas; when all is cooked and tender, add the rice (already cooked). Add spices to taste. *Don't forget the boullion cube at the beginning. Serve hot.
G's recipe for Locro de PapasG's annotation next to this says: "soup" (followed by a smiley face)Photo from laylita.com - check out this post for a more detailed recipe and additional mouth-watering step-by-step photos.
In a saucepan make a refrito with onion and oil; when the onion is browned, add water to boiling. When boiling, add sliced potatoes (in quarters), salt, pepper. Once the potatoes are soft, add crumbled cheese (wet cheese are best but mozz. is ok), milk and cilantro. Serve with pieces of avocado. Arrow next to this says: "What most ecuadorians do, and I think that it's yummy to cut the avocado into smaller pieces and put it in the soup, or mash it up."
Estofado de Pescado (Fish Stew)
1 lb. of fish (white fish)
1 lb. cooked potatoes, quartered
1 tsp. butter
sliced onion
2 tsp. oil
2 cups milk
salt, pepper
mustard (regular yellow, not dijon)
Make a refrito w/the oil, butter, onion, adding mustard (and then add the rest of the ingredients). Add the fish (now in small pieces) and potatoes. Add the milk, salt & pepper to taste. Cook until the potatoes are soft. Add water during cooking if necessary. Serve over rice.
When I stopped by Jean-Paul's Paradiso on Clough for what is probably The Best Baguette in the City, I fell prey to the dessert case - and glad I did! This colorful swirly edible container is filled with chocolate mousse.
Happy Monday!
"Top Table." Is a reputation like that a blessing or a curse? Does it unduly raise a new customer's expectations? I had heard great things about Lilly's seasonal and French-inspired Southern farm-to-table food for years. With foodie friend Cindie as my dining companion, this was finally my opportunity to try it. I had initially suggested Lilly's for lunch - the 3-course $15 prix fixe sounded like a grand bargain. But after weighing timing and traffic issues to attend Kentucky Crafted and haggling over other dinner options, we settled on Lilly's for our Saturday night dining indulgence.
To Cindie's dismay, we were shown to a small two-top where one of us (it ended up being me), was seated in the narrow path from the hostess station past the tiny bar to the majority of the restaurant's tables. When Cindie requested another unoccupied table, the hostess informed us that "her" seating that evening was "compromised" due to a number of special occasion reservations. We dutifully took our assigned seats, and I tried to ignore being jostled as customers were led to their tables.
While Cindie and I negotiated over wine possibilities, we both had one of the restaurant's featured drinks, a white grape Cosmo. Lovely to look at (bad blogger - I failed to take a photo), the pinkish Finlandia vodka cocktail was garnished with frozen grapes. I think Cindie enjoyed it more than I did (ok, but not what I'd call a memorable craft cocktail). However, props to our server for bringing us tastes of two different wines so I could persuade Cindie to go with a red. And for comping Cindie's second Cosmo, which came only after she finally caught his attention and had to remind him she had ordered it.
Cindie is all about the grits. So for her starter, she ordered the oysters and Weisenberger grits over sauteed spinach with chipotle butter. The perfectly fried oysters and cheesy grits made this one of our top two dishes of the evening.
I, of course, couldn't resist the foie - in this preparation served over light miniature corn pancakes with a pear compote and something crunchy on top. The corn cakes were my favorite part of the dish, which didn't quite sing to me as a whole, or fulfill my foie expectations. Smelling the thick fries cooked in duck fat and served in a humble coffee mug at the next table, I might have been guilty of bad ordering.
For our mains, Cindie chose the sea scallops over pancetta-flecked pumpkin risotto. They arrived cold in the middle. Our server apologetically whisked them away and returned with them warm, but they were more moist and mushy than she expected from a seared scallop. Cindie also wasn't a fan of the sweet pumpkin risotto, probably made sweeter by apple cider and brown butter, and said she would have been happier to have had a couple more plates of the grits and oysters she'd had for her first course.
I have a tendency to gravitate to lamb, so when it popped up on the evening's menu (it wasn't on the online menu I'd been drooling over), I leapt for it. It wasn't until we were well into our red wine sampling and negotiations that I fully registered that this would be a braised lamb shank, not a cut I could order rare. And it would be huge. Still, it came with Weisenberger grits and was topped with the same thin white and green straws of fried onion-y goodness that had garnished Cindie's oyster starter, which we learned from our server were leeks. (Note to self: must try to make fried leek slivers at home.)
I knew I would have to stop mid-way through my Flinstonian hunk o' lamb if I was to have any hope of trying dessert. A good thing I did.
This chocolate lava cake with house-made pistachio ice cream, a drizzle of caramel sauce, and a small fresh thyme garnish there in the upper left-hand corner turned out to be our other top two dish of the night. Fortunately, it's offered in this "mini" size, which we split. Props again to our server, who comped dessert after our "mixed" experience. Still, service overall felt a little awkward. I didn't expect stuffy service from Lilly's, but what we got seemed more amateur than what I would have hoped for. It's nice to have a hefty bill reduced if the restaurant gives you a freebie or two, but mark-downs can't elevate a middling experience to a memorable one.
So . . . did we hit Lilly's on a bad night? Did we just order badly? Was our experience deflated by inflated expectations? Were we given short shrift as two women dining alone, or neglected in favor of regular patrons commanding more attention?
And, darn, why are my photos so crappy? Simple inexperience? Or amplified by nervousness trying to photograph unobtrusively in a high-end restaurant?
Relieved to change into our sweat pants back at the hotel after a far more circuitous return cab ride (at least the cab driver was playing the WFPL Saturday night blues show on the radio), we compared answers to these quandries.
But the real question was: Would we be up for an all-you-can-eat brunch the next morning?
