A fairly amazing-sounding Better Beer Society brown bag series event at Butcher & the Boar, some revised menus at local restaurants, a local foodie’s epic Mother’s Day feast, tasting notes for Summit Pilsner and Steel Toe’s Provider, the Star Tribune’s Taste 50, and a new urban farm in Minneapolis.
In the past couple of years, bourgeois culinary attitudes have undergone an extreme makeover, with the tides turning from McNuggets to cage-free eggs, from Eggos to Annie’s. During cultural shifts such as this, where almost no one knows exactly how to do the right thing, and when diehards and dabblers spill raw milk over semantics, the search for a messiah to pass judgment over the rabble becomes key. In the absence of such a figurehead, I propose what I believe would be a 100 percent perfectly sustainable, carbon-neutral, locavore restaurant. (For the purposes of this mental exercise, we can assume that the restaurant exists in a vacuum outside of the Department of Health jurisdiction.)
Let’s call it the EcoSustainaBistro.
Upon entering the EcoSustainaBistro, diners’ senses will be assaulted by the sheer magnitude of chicken-themed paraphernalia in the restaurant. From the 5-foot tall fresco of a prairie chicken to the screenprinted rooster napkins, the decor declares decisively: “Thank God, you’re in the Midwest.” The rest of it is all foraged wood; EcoSustainaBistro’s owners spent weeks tromping up and down the banks of the Mississippi, building up a collection of stray boat fragments and driftwood. Every reclaimed table is topped with a soy candle, stuck artfully and artlessly in a vintage glass BubbleUp bottle. Imagine that Anthropologie, after an exceptionally raunchy night out, blew chunks all over the dining room.
Adjacent to this temple of gastrobation is a 1-acre garden plot and two greenhouses, which supply the restaurant with fresh produce year-round. The needs of the chef dictate the content of the gardens: cucumbers, peppers, and onions for pickles, for example. Nearby, a pigpen and a system of rabbit hutches fill out the remaining space. The pigs and rabbits eat all the food scraps that the tableside red wigglers can’t, and then some. In addition to their extensive raw food composting, the restaurant goes even further with its revolutionary carp toilets, an idea that the owners picked up during their travels to the Mekong Delta. The elimination of flushing toilets has reduced the restaurant’s water consumption by approximately 450,000 gallons a year.
Katelyn Farstad / Heavy Table
Of course, the big seller at the EcoSustainaBistro is the chef’s 5-course tasting menu, which, after factoring in the carbon offset donations included in the final bill, adds up to about $200 / person. Though it may seem pricey at first glance, know that in the end, you’re saving money.
The first course, an amuse bouche, is the restaurant’s signature maple-glazed hissing cockroach on a stick. While it may seem like an exotic choice for a protein, diners can rest assured that the roaches are cultivated right there, in several glass aquariums kept in the basement of the restaurant. Insects are the worst-kept secret of the culinary world, beating out every other mobile protein source in every measure of sustainability. Because they can be kept in crowded conditions without ill effect, they provide an ideal answer to the “Feed the World” dilemma. Plus, they’re not at all cute so, really, does it even matter?
Next comes the salad course. Diners are invited to come outside to the restaurant garden to pick their own head of lettuce… but that’s not where the adventure ends! They will also be guided around the lot by the in-house certified wildcrafter, who will assist them in foraging the finest accents to their dishes. Once they get back to their tables, they’ll know that the sweat of hard work will make their lovely jumble of lettuces, ramps, lamb’s quarters, and wood sorrel taste even sweeter.
The fish course, a rusty crayfish- and zebra mussel-studded étouffée, takes advantage of the bounty of Minnesota’s invasive species, providing a tasty answer to the environmental quandaries that the state’s lakes and streams now face. The EcoSustainaBistro embraces the fledging invasivore movement wholeheartedly; the chef is currently developing techniques to transform the emerald ash borer into a viable dessert course.
Unfortunately, the restaurant’s meat options are of a highly limited availability, due to its excessively humane mode of slaughter. Each pig and rabbit must consent to death before the restaurant calls in the mobile slaughterhouse. To achieve this extraordinary landmark in animal rights, the chef and the animals have entered gentlemen’s agreement of sorts: If an animal butts its head against the bell in its enclosure, that means that it has finally chosen to give up its life for the restaurant’s diners. The final products, a breaded pig’s head torchon with house-made pickles and mostarda and braised rabbit with gooseberry flapjacks, are truly worthy of this noble sacrament. Before the entree is presented, the diner is treated to a reading of the animal’s name and life story, and a detailed list of its lifetime achievements. For an extra $100, the diner may watch the chef break down the carcass.
Finally, dessert comes in the form of a golden raspberry cane, brought out in a small pouch of organic compost. Once planted, the raspberry can be expected to bear fruit in 2 years. This course embodies the chef’s Zen Buddhist leanings, encouraging the diner to appreciate the art of delayed gratification. Perhaps the final message, that the best fruit is the one you grow yourself, is the most important takeaway of the chef’s tasting menu.
Diners may also elect to add another experience to their menu, playfully dubbed the “cheese” course. For a fee, the chef will come to their table and expound upon the locavore movement’s virtues, as well as those of the chef and the diner herself. He will gesture emphatically to the huddled masses pressed up against the restaurant’s windows, who regretfully cannot afford to participate in this incredible process. “We’re doing it all for them!” he’ll say. It is also an ideal opportunity for the diner to thank the chef for his hard work, and to be thanked by him in return. An additional gratuity of 3% is expected for each teardrop the chef sheds.
Though EcoSustainaBistro is not yet a reality, it lives as a dream in every foodie’s heart. We are ready and eager to pay for such a thing.
Jill Lewis / Heavy Table
Well, actually, a Jewish girl, her Jewish husband and son, and her Lutheran friend and two children walk into a Catholic church for a Friday night fish fry, but that doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.
Semantics aside, this was a first for me, a Member of the Tribe who has always lived in towns with substantial Catholic populations but had never been to one of the Friday Lenten meals myself. Why would I? Friday night is the beginning of the Jewish Sabbath, which meant I was usually home with my parents and sisters, eating chicken and then putting up a strong case for why we needed to skip synagogue services in favor of ABC’s TGIF line-up of sitcoms (“Family Matters,” anyone?). And besides having the Jewish-mandated affection for tuna and lox, I wasn’t much of a fish fan anyway, so I figured I wasn’t missing much. But my adult tastebuds have matured to enjoy many kinds of fish, and being a Upper Midwesterner, I love all things deep-fried, so now the question was, “Why wouldn’t I try a fish fry?”
Thanks to Foodie File blogger Stephanie March’s intrepid reporting, I even knew which fish fry to hit — Most Holy Trinity Church in St. Louis Park, which Stephanie labeled “a contender for [her] crispiest award” and is five minutes from my house. So the six of us arrived on a recent Friday night shortly before 6 in the evening (most fish fries start on the early side of the dinner hour — Most Holy Trinity’s runs from 5 to 7pm) ready to feast on battered fish and get the authentic fish-fry experience.
We bought our tickets ($9 for adults, $8 for seniors, $5 for children ages 5-12, and free for the younger set) and grabbed the first available seats we could find. Though our group brought the average age in the room down by at least 30 years, there were still several families and groups of young adults in various stages of their meals. After shedding our coats, my husband and friend went to get our food while I waited at the table with my 2-year-old, thinking it would be maybe 10 minutes, at most, before the all-you-can-eat fish frenzy began. But 10 minutes passed, then 20, then 30. I was desperately trying to keep my getting-hungrier-by-the-minute kid from annoying our tablemates and struck up a conversation with the priest to my right.
“Do you know what kind of fish it is?” I asked.
Katie Cannon / Heavy Table
“I think I’m getting a cold,” my friend says, turning toward me. I reach into my lunchsack and pull out a clementine. “Here,” I say, “eat this.”
He points to a packet of Emergen-C on the counter, shakes his head and says, “No thank you, I’m covered.”
For the next several minutes I tried to convince him to forgo the powdered supplement in favor of the real deal. In the end, I was unsuccessful, but for the next few days I couldn’t help but chuckle every time I packed a clementine as my afternoon snack.
I also couldn’t help but wonder what the Emergen-C tasted like. Sure, I could take Emergen-C to ward off any impending colds, but my preference was au natural. Despite this, I figured it couldn’t hurt to give the Emergen-C a go — it’s better to be informed and argumentative than uninformed and stubborn.
Emergen-C:
Katie Cannon / Heavy Table
Information according to the packet:
1,000 mg of Vitamin C (1,667% of recommended daily value in 1 packet)
Includes 24 nutrients with antioxidants, electrolytes and 7 B Vitamins
Described as a “Flavored Fizzy Drink Mix”
Directions: As a dietary supplement, take one packet 2 to 4 times a day.
Price:
Single Servings $.99 Immune Plus System Booster — citrus (Eastside Food Co-op)
Single Serving $.69 regular Emergen-C — cranberry pomegranate (Eastside Food Co-op)
30 packs are available at Target for $8
Taste:
I preferred the citrus flavor, which tastes like a lemon-orange combination. The fizz was not altogether off-putting, but rather gave it a pleasant mouthfeel, as if you were drinking a flavored soda. The cranberry pomegranate, however, tasted like cough syrup. In addition to fizz, it was foamy with a metallic aftertaste and a distinct powdery smell.
Overall:
Although you won’t be finding Emergen-C in my daily diet anytime soon, I have to admit that it didn’t taste as bad as I thought it would. Although it will take many fruits to make up a daily allotment of vitamins, I’ll stick to more natural approaches to getting my Vitamin C, relishing the sweet, natural flavor with each juicy bite.
Katie Cannon / Heavy Table
Katie Cannon / Heavy Table
The Great Minnesota Get Together has come and gone once more and, as usual, the food did not disappoint. There were new offerings, like the sunnies in a boat and Spam breakfast sandwiches, and of course there were the classics like Sweet Martha’s cookies and roasted sweet corn.
On a stick or in a boat, deep fried or fresh — the Heavy Table was there, sampling it all.
But even with such an extensive listing of food, we couldn’t help wondering if the State Fair’s food repertoire could get any better. What follows are some concrete suggestions for new Fair foods.
Fried Chicken and Waffles
The sweet and salty combination is taken to a new level with fried chicken and waffles — tender chicken pieces battered and crispy fried, paired with sweet waffles and local syrup, and served on a stick (of course). Satisfying both the breakfast and lunch cravings and combining two things that kids love, fried chicken and waffles could prove to be the perfect Fair food.
Lori Writer / Heavy Table
Bánh Mì Sandwiches
The bánh mì, with its perfect combination of chewy baguette paired with tender meats and crisp vegetables, would make a great addition to the food list. Meat lovers and vegetarians alike would be satisfied with a variety of sandwich options. And although it would be impossible to offer this on a stick, wrapped in a single paper (recyclable of course), it makes a perfect grab-and-go food.
Bubble Tea
Finding refreshing beverages at the fair can be a challenge. Although there are some choices out there, including a few we love — maple soda and Summit quickly come to mind — generally your choices are limited to water, soda, or milk (cookies, anyone?). Bubble tea — fruit-flavored tea served with large tapioca-like pearls — would be a natural addition to the fair. Fruity, hydrating, and fun for all — who doesn’t love to slurp up the pearls through the comically wide straws?
Papaya Salad and Larb
While Asian food already makes the state fair roster, we propose a few Thai food options that go beyond the obvious chicken satay that would be perfect for the Fair — papaya salad and larb. Both the papaya salad, a savory mix of shredded papaya, chilies, vegetables, herbs, and peanuts, and the larb, a traditional dish of minced lean meat mixed with chilies and herbs, could be served in State Fair-appropriate edible lettuce wraps. Fun, fresh, and Fair worthy, for certain.
Jucy Lucy
And, of course, there is the jucy lucy. But instead of one big burger filled with oozing cheese, our State Fair vision of this fine food entails a basket of three mini lucys, each with a different type of cheese — American, blue cheese, and pepperjack. Each would be two bites of jucy lucy perfection, if the right vendor is at the helm, of course. It would be a tough challenge to pull off the State Fair jucy lucy but we’re confident that The Nook or Matt’s could do it.
Lori Writer / Heavy Table
My State Fair regimen is rigorous.
First: There are my Must-Do’s, the things I do and see because I’ve always done and seen them. It wouldn’t be the State Fair otherwise: crop art; butterheads; the big pig; the DNR fish pond; 4-H exhibits; Little Farm Hands; the Little Brown Jug (God willing).
Next are the secondary items, the ones I only have time to rotate through bi- or triennially. Naturally, the more times any given activity appears in rotation, the more likely it will attain Must-Do status, further crowding my overly demanding schedule.
And then there’s the food. Must-Do’s: cheese curds, cream puffs, French fries, Sweet Martha’s cookies, honey sunflower seed ice cream, Pronto Pup, milkshake, corn roast, spaghetti and meatball-on-a-stick. And whatever improbable food item is new this year, bonus points if it has been pierced by a stick, is deep-fried, or involves potatoes in any form. Last year that was the Pig Licker. In 2006, Tater Tot Hot Dish-on-a-Stick.
This year, I have my sights on Blue Moon’s Fry Dog, which the food finder describes as “a French fry covered, deep fried hot dog on-a-stick.” Stick? Check. Fried? Check. Potatoes? Check. Clearly, a Must-Do.
I once was able to accomplish all of my Must-Do’s — culinary or otherwise — in a single, intense, sweaty day. Start early; wear practical shoes; watch out for stroller people. Lately, it’s expanded to two full days. And let’s face it, folks, things aren’t getting done, despite tense negotiations with my spouse over whose Must-Do’s need to get pushed into secondary rotation. For instance, I can’t understand why we need to wait in line every year to beg a free Star Tribune when a perfectly nice one appears on our doorstep every morning. He doesn’t understand the point of 10 quiet, blissful minutes in the Meditation Tent.
I’m in serious danger of failing at State Fair, one of my most sacred responsibilities as a Minnesotan. (And there are only two others: navigating the treacherous Mother’s Day vs. Fishing Opener Conflict and mastering the deadpan delivery for that joke about Minnesota having only two seasons.) I’ve considered calling in sick to work, but haven’t. Yet.
Something needs to change.
In the interest of efficiency, marital harmony, and continued employment, I present to you to the Heavy Table’s proposed new food item for the Great Minnesota Get Together, 2010: State Fair-on-a-Stick, an entire State Fair meal, from cheese curd appetizer to caramel apple dessert, dunked in a beer batter and deep-fried. On a stick, one stick. Consult your Blue Ribbon Coupon Book’s two-for-one coupon for a fizzy Alka-Seltzer chaser. No more racing from booth to booth, just one easy stop.
Sure, you’ll look silly carrying it, but what’s a small dent in your ego compared to losing your Minnesota cred?
Lori Writer / Heavy Table
State Fair-on-a-Stick
Serves 1
1 sheet of caramel
1 wedge of Zestar apple (Aamodt’s Apple Farm)
½ hot dog (Kramarczuk’s or St. Joseph’s Meat Market)
1 cross-section, ¾-inch wide, of Minnesota-grown sweet corn on the cob, cooked
1 cheese curd ( U of M Dairy Salesroom)
1 wooden skewer
Canola oil, for deep-frying
Almost Pronto Pup Beer Batter:
1 c all-purpose flour (Gold Medal or Pillsbury)
1 c cornmeal (Swany White)
¼ c rice flour
2 tbsp powdered milk
1 tbsp baking powder
1 tbsp salt
12-oz bottle beer (Summit India Pale Ale)
Toppings:
Ketchup, for drizzling on cheese curd (Chef Shack recipe)
Butter, for dolloping on corn (Hope Creamery)
Mustard, for drizzling on hot dog (Hell’s Kitchen)
Honey, for drizzling on caramel apple (U of M)
Instructions:
- Cut your bamboo skewer to slightly under the width of your deep-fryer.
- In a deep-fryer, heat oil to 375°.
- Wrap caramel around apple wedge, trimming any excess with kitchen shears. Pinch closed.
- Slide each item onto skewer in the reverse order that you would eat them: dessert (caramel apple first), then hot dog, corn, cheese curd. Leave enough room at the bottom of the skewer for you to be able to hold it.
- In a large bowl, whisk together batter ingredients until there are no lumps. Spoon beer batter over loaded skewer.
- Using kitchen tongs to hold skewer at the bare end, lower skewer into deep-fryer.
- Fry until coating is golden brown, turning once or twice, about three minutes.
- Remove with kitchen tongs.
- Drizzle with toppings.
By the way, if you just wanted to enjoy some battered and fried cheese curds at home? Say, in the dead of winter when you wish the weather would channel late August for just a day or two? Cheese curds+the above beer batter recipe+steps 2, 5, 7, & 8+Chef Shack’s bacon ketchup turns out pretty darn tasty.
Lori Writer / Heavy Table
When it comes to meal time, bowls conjure images of being spoon-fed as a baby and holing up on winter weekends. Food served in bowls is goopy, soupy, sloppy, melty… comfort food. Think hot fudge sundaes, thick clam chowder, creamy risotto, a hot, steaming bowl of steel-cut oats dripping with melted brown sugar, and streams of whole milk. Bowls beg to be cupped in our open palms, like fuzzy, newborn bunnies, warming our souls from the outside in.
Moreover, every winter, thousands of the flu-stricken are spoon-fed chicken broth by helping hands, the steaming bowls held tenderly beneath their bottom lips. The dumped and the miserable scour their kitchens for something soft or sweet, something suited to a bowl… bottomless bowls of Ben and Jerry’s, or maybe Cocoa Puffs, to soothe their troubled hearts. Memories of mammoth bowls of cereal… Golden Grahams, Cap’n Crunch, Life… send us drifting back to blissfully aimless Saturday mornings when we’d watch cartoons in our pajamas, big bowls of cold milk and more cereal than we could possibly eat teetering in our tiny hands.
Where is all this fluffy imagery leading? A grand proposal.
Here it is: a restaurant that caters to those creature comforts (nurturing safety, home, and relaxation) delivered via those round, reassuring serving vessels called bowls. I’d call it, simply, “Bowl-O.”
Everything on the menu would be served in — you got it — bowls. Ordering would be simple and fun. Patrons would ask for a “bowl o’ mac and cheese,” a “bowl o’ split pea and ham,” even a “bowl o’ pizza” (a thick slab of crust baked beneath a ragout of tomato sauce and choice of pizza toppings and shredded cheese). Also on the the menu would be meal-in-a-bowl standards, like soups, mashed potatoes and gravy, chicken pot pie, shepherd’s pie, pudding, beef stroganoff, individual egg bakes, chili, and the like. But there’d be plenty of room for creativity, too:
Bowl O’ Break Up: bowl of chocolate layer cake, chocolate ice cream, hot fudge, chocolate-covered espresso beans, nuts, and sprinkles
Bowl O’ the South: bowl of cheesy grits kerplunked with chunks of chicken fried chicken
Bowl O’ Skinny: bowl of fat-free yogurt, lowfat granola, sliced fruit
Bowl O’ Britain: bowl of warm beer
Bowl O’ Neighborly Love: bowl of tuna casserole
Bowl O’ Death: bowl of densely stratified, melted cheeses: aged white cheddar, gorgonzola, mozzarella, muenster, and sage derby, each layer pebbled with a layer of bacon bits. Perhaps a couple thick wedges of crusty baguette would be served alongside.
Diners would sit on plush couches, bean bags, and oversized chairs. Bowls nestled in hand, they’d be free to tuck their knees beneath their chins, a Bowl O’ Death balanced on their kneecaps, or slouch a la Al Bundy, legs splayed, a free hand unabashedly tucked inside their front waistbands. No stiff upper lips or manners encouraged in this joint. Bowl-O would make diners feel as if they were eating at home when the ‘rents aren’t looking. Rather than reaching for a cocktail or a cigarette, customers would be able to head to Bowl-O, where they’d let the troubles and stresses of the day absorb into the heat of the warm bowl in their tired hands, leaving well-fed and invigorated.
Why would anyone dine at Bowl-O? To feed oneself a bowl of something steamy in one’s open hands as if it were a tantalizing offering feels life-giving. And how delicious would it be to inhale a vat of melted cheese without the grilled bread getting in the way? Heavenly delicious.
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