Guess I'll Go Eat Worms

Okay, I didn't eat worms.

I ate snails. Escargot if you will.

I'm classy like that.

Tuesday was my mother's birthday, and we went to eat Wednesday evening with family friends to celebrate. They treated us to dinner at Rise No. 1, a restaurant that specializes in souffles.

Yes, Blogger, I mean souffles, not snuffles, or scuffles, or snuffler.

One of the savory souffles on offer was the souffle escargots a.k.a. souffle full o' snails.

I have never eaten escargots, and never in my wildest dreams could I imagine encountering souffled snails on a menu in a Dallas restaurant.

So, of course, I ordered it.

J'adore les escargots.

Yes, I know, I probably mis-conjugated that verb, because my French is atrocious, and for that matter, I don't know if "escargot" has a plural, or if it's like moose, where one word serves all quantities. I'm blaming it on the evil French teacher I had in college who demanded I present her with doctors' notes prior to my chemotherapy sessions, instead of after them (because I had all the time in the world to drive to Dallas to get them, deliver them to her in Denton, and then drive back to Dallas for chemo. Right, Lady.)

The escargots were tender and juicy - as you'd expect, if you've ever seen a snail's trail - and floated in garlic and butter, with a light souffle crowning each of the individual snails. It was fun to dig down through the poufy souffle to get to the pseudopods, before whispering "Come here, little invertebrate, so I can eat you!" and stuffing the steaming snails into my mouth.

Mmmmm...

We followed up with two souffles for the table for dessert: one chocolate, one pumpkin.

The chocolate was good. The pumpkin was amazing. Get the pumpkin, if they have it, because it's like putting little fluffy bits of heaven into your mouth.

Mmmmm...

And now, I'm off to bed, full of snails and pumpkin puree and creme fraiche and bits of deliciousness.

Food, Glorious Food!

I went to Houston, this weekend, to visit my sister and her husband. My dad was out of town, and my mom and I decided we'd like to spend the Easter holidays en famille so we road-tripped on down I-45 Friday.

My mom reunited (and it felt so goooood) with one of her gal pals from college Friday evening, and my sister and the hubster took me to Grimaldi's out in Sugarland, whose motto should be Sugarland: Our stores' signage is creepy! Seriously, all the stores and restaurants have signage the height and font and color of which is dictated by city ordinance so it all matches and gives the thing a Stepford feel.

On to the food! Grimaldi's cooks their pizzas - it's a pizza place, natch - in a coal-fired oven, so the crust is crispy on the outside, but chewy on the inside, and delicious all over. Their mozzarella is the real deal, folks, not that Kraft grated stuff. It's made from the milk of free-range cows, and tastes like the mozzarella di bufala that comes in tubs of water (whey?) in the dairy section of Whole Paycheck - er - Foods. We ordered our pizza with artichoke hearts, Italian sausage, and sundried tomatoes. Delicioso!

Saturday, we had a breakfast of almond croissants from the farmer's market (not sure which one, though, because I slept through the market excursion and awoke in time for the eating bit), scrambled eggs, and strawberries. Lunch was eaten at Stone Mill Bakers in between bouts of frantic interior design shopping. All the ladies had their to die for curried chicken salad sandwich box lunch, which includes a bag of chips, a drink, and a cookie! I had an iced egg-shaped sugar cookie. Yum! Their curried chicken salad is served on raisin bread. Heaven! Heaven!

Saturday night was grass-fed beef roast cooked on the brother-in-law's grill with green and red bell peppers and onions in beer (mmmmmm, beer) with a green salad (arugugugugugula, green beans, other green yummy things) and then shortbread with blackberries and Hank's vanilla ice cream. Hank's ice cream is the best ice cream known to mankind. It bests Bluebell by a country mile. It has so much butterfat in it that you can feel your arteries clog as you digest it. It is wonderful.

You may think my gustatory tale is over, but you are incorrect. Oh no. The coup de grace is just around the corner.

Easter morning, we all went to services at the Emerson Unitarian Universalist Association, and then proceeded to brunch at the Backstreet Cafe on South Shepherd. They had a fixe prix menu for the holiday, and it was an exercise in mental gymnastics to decide what I wanted to order. I could have ordered the vichyssoise followed by roasted leg of lamb with spinach and then strawberry shortcake, or crawfish risotto followed by lobster benedict with a filet and stuffed mushroom and then banana custard, or chicken liver pate followed by the sea trout and then blackberry cobbler with burnt butter ice cream.

I opted, however, to show some restraint, and ordered the mixed greens, followed by the pepper sauteed shrimp with crawfish grits and tempura green onions, with a simple palate cleanser of orange chocolate bread pudding and a dollop of creme fraiche.

Very restrained, indeed.

Santa Fe and Eating

I'm still in Santa Fe, though not for much longer: today, I head up to Taos. I'm wanting to go for a drive, and so drive I shall. There's a museum or two I want to see, and then I'll take a driving tour - the shortest one on the list of recommended driving tours - that will bring me back to Santa Fe.

Yesterday, I went to every museum within walking distance of the Governor's Plaza. At least, it seems that way. I went to the Institute for American Indian Art (IAIA), where they had a wonderful exhibit, as well as artwork in the museum shop that you can purchase. I found three paintings, all by the same artist, that I love. I do not, however, have the $1,200 it would require to buy all three. My goal is to save up some money and then hunt him down on the Internet, eventually. EVENTUALLY. Although no longer unemployed, I will be taking a drastic pay cut from what I made at my old job, so...

I also went to the Georgia O'Keefe Museum. I went once before about ten years ago with my parents and sister. At the time, I remember thinking how little I liked her paintings. Of course, my taste has matured since then, so I went back.

I still don't like her paintings.

I tried, and I can't force myself to like them. I apparently fail as an art-lover. The restaurant at the Georgia O'Keefe is excellent, however. They serve blue-corn pancakes with a side of venison sausage and fresh fruit dusted with cinnamon. Wonderful wonderful wonderful food.

I went to the New Mexico Museum of Art, too, which had the requisite O'Keefes, but also an amazing display of sculptural fine art baskets from the collection of some old rich folks who live in NM. The term basket is somewhat loosely defined, as some of the articles on display couldn't hold so much as a peanut. There was also a creepy security guard at the Museum of Art, who I would recommend avoiding.

Yesterday, I found myself feeling peckish after wandering through all the museums. At La Fonda, a big expensive hotel right off Santa Fe's main plaza, there is a small pastry shop that specializes in crepes. So, I guess technically, it's a creperie with a selection of pastries. Semantics.

Anyways, I ducked in, wanting something sweet and light. If you go, order the apricot crepe. Stewed apricots, wrapped in a light and delightfully chewy crepe with a side of real whipped cream. None of this Redi-Whip or Cool Whip nonsense for them. Oh no, it's real unsweetened whipped cream. It is perfectly acceptable to eat what might be left of it with a spoon after you've finished your crepe, by the way.

I ate dinner last night at Gabriel's, which is actually in Santa Cruz, about 20-30 minutes north of Santa Fe. If you ever get the chance to go to Gabriel's, be forewarned: they ask if you want guacamole. If you want guacamole, be prepared to shell out $12 for it. It's good, though, and is made to order at your table. I ordered it, and managed to consume about half of it (in other words, a whole avocado with tomato, onion, garlic, cilantro, and lime juice) in addition to the stewed pork I had for a main dish. It was all delicious, but if you're there by yourself and you sit at a table in the bar, you won't get very good service. Just a warning.

Quasi Happy Hour @ Cowboy Chow

The Happy Hour coordinator was out of town Friday, and so there was no official Happy Hour, per se.  However, a couple of my intrepid adventuring friends and I made the trek to Deep Ellum to partake of the chow at Cowboy Chow.

GO TO COWBOY CHOW.

They bill themselves as a "wedding chapel and tacos" place, attested to by the extensive listing of tacos on the menu and the veiled and top-hatted buffalo heads on the wall.  For those of you who dislike mounted animal heads, take heart: they are obviously fake.  I want one.

In the spirit of the evening, I partook of the buffalo tacos (for those watching their waistlines, they're 500 calories for the whole meal) which were amazing.  Tacos are served with a side of beans, which are something of a cross between pinto beans and baked beans, and a bed of rice that catches the delicious juices that dribble out of the tacos and onto your hands.

Cowboy Chow specializes in braised meats, and to this end you will find all sorts of braised beef and pork (REAL cowboys don't eat chicken).  My compadres in comiendo both ordered the Dr. Pepper braised ribs (beef) and liked them, although they thought the ribs should be served with some form of Dr. Pepper reduction sauce.  Mashed potatoes have corn mashed in with them, so don't get all up in arms when you see "corn" on the menu, and it isn't served in a neat yellow pile next to the taters.

There are three grades of beer at Cowboy Chow: Texas and Mexican Beer, Good Yankee Beer, and Cheap Ass Beer.  Seeing as I'm unemployed, I drank a cheap ass Pabst Blue Ribbon, but for those with more - ahem - refined palates, you can order a Blue Moon or a Buffalo Butt (?).

A good reason to eat the low-cal tacos di bufala is the dessert offerings: homemade ice cream sandwiches, peanut butter brownie smores, or a warm-baked cookie (which should be ordered at the time you order your meal so they can bake the cookie for you).  The waiter informed us that the ice cream sandwiches are about the size of a hockey puck.

He lied.

They're bigger.

And before I forget, let's go back to the beginning, where you eat appetizers and such.  They have the most wonderful invention on the menu: fried green tomato lollipops, served with 3 cheese ranch dipping sauce.  They're $1 each.  They're heaven.  Get one.

So, as a recap for those of you with short memories: GO TO COWBOY CHOW AND CHOW DOWN.

You will not regret it.

(Creative Commons Licensed image courtesy of Flickr user tkksumers may be found at http://www.flickr.com/photos/tkksummers/3472731686/)