Black Ice

On Saturday, I went to Portland Brew in East Nashville with a hankering for coffee. I should preface this by saying I don't really drink coffee very often, just when a hankering comes along or when I'm so tired that three Dr. Peppers won't do the trick. At any rate, my wife and I each ordered an iced coffee, added a little cream and sugar, and headed home. About a half-hour later, we both started feeling jittery. By an hour later, I was trembling and felt so mixed up I couldn't finish my lunch. I thought:

1. Did I wake up this morning with the worst hangover in the world and decide to take a bunch of speed?

2. Maybe I did 15 rails of coke and blacked out for the part where you feel awesome.

3. Is this what smoking crack is like? That would explain a lot about Whitney.

Now, I'm aware that coffee houses typically make a stronger brew for their iced coffees, to offset the weakening that happens with the pack melt. But, damn, that stuff about took my head off. Perhaps we should make a jolt meter or something and assign each cafe a number. Call it fair warning.

A Note on Comments

You may have already noticed that there is now a captcha in the comments. (In other words, you'll have to type a verification word in order for your comment to post.) Your comment may take a minute or two to publish, so please be patient. And as always, thanks for visiting Bites.

Party at Carrington's! Everyone's Invited!

Well, not exactly. But in honor of the upcoming and politically controversial Beijing Olympics, Mr. Pink and I think Carrington should have a cookout celebrating the wonderful street foods that will be available for fans and athletes alike at what is officially known as The Games of the XXIX Olympiad.

See more irresistible delicacies after the jump...and if you'd like to see our favorite AltWeekly Award-nominated food writer re-create this menu for all to enjoy, please chime in and make yourselves known. (Thanks to G. Pollak, whoever and wherever you are, for the photos in this PDF we received.)

Table Manners

Tonight is Dining Out For Life, so if you dine in any one of 55 restaurants a portion of your bill will go to Nashville Cares' programs for people living with HIV/AIDS. I'd love it if you'd join me at Wild Iris.

Which brings me to this: I've been busily arranging a group of diners for the Wild Iris. It's a good thing I'm not in charge of the reservation book on a regular basis, because I clumsily stacked the dining room with a flight of 7 p.m. reservations. I can only hope the folks at the Iris can forgive my ham-handedness. But it brings up a point I'd like to discuss.

I recently got a question from a reader asking about seating protocol. She and a friend had an early reservation in a chic new hot spot, where they ordered dinner and a few drinks and were still sipping cocktails when their server asked them to please vacate their table for the next group. Needless to say, she felt a little dissed, especially while other groups were drinking cocktails, sans dinner at the adjacent tables. Is this standard operating procedure? What should happen in this type of situation?

Nashville Insane Sandwich 1: The Happy Family

For the inaugural Bites insane sandwich (henceforth to be known as a Madwich), we look to the Chinese-American restaurant menu for inspiration. The happy family, though it varies in execution, always presents itself for the indecisive diner with its harmonious combination of beef, chicken and shrimp.

As Prince once said, "Let's get nuts."

Get Sum

So, I've been pretty obsessed with the idea of insane sandwiches ever since reading about them on the interwebs. I've got some ideas for some Nashvillecentric 'wiches, some of which I'm hoping to assemble in real life and subsequently challenge the editorial staff to ingest.

In the meantime, one of my insane ideas is the Country cha siu baau— pork shoulder barbecue baked into a biscuit. Thinking of this led me to another idea, grits and sausage cooked inside a collard green, a riff on lo mai gai. This of course in turn led me to the obvious need for real dim sum in Nashville, but also, more to the point, to the idea for Southern dim sum. Imagine clattering carts filled with small portions of mac-and-cheese, smoked ribs and permit har gow. Oolong sweet tea on the tables. What else?

What a Rice Idea

Words of which I apparently don't know the meaning include the following: gemma, firth and gallimaufry. I learned of these and other vocabulary shortcomings at freerice.com, which is the online equivalent of an endless SAT verbal section. Log on and start the multiple-choice quiz. For every word you get right, the site donates 20 grains of rice to the UN World Food Program, which is paid for by the advertising on the site.

Not that I'm trying to give Bites readers, who seems to have plenty of discretionary time on their hands, any other distractions, but this website--in addition to helping fight hunger--is completely addictive and, arguably, even educational. I now know that a gemma is a bud, a firth is an estuary and gallimaufry means "hodgepodge."

Now, for extra credit, I'll give 60 grains of rice to the first person to use the following three words in a single sentence: kine, gonfalon and ratiocinative.

Act Now! Rock Bottom Burrito Prices!

The left-handed and very tasty Chimalles Mexican Grille—at 1530 Demonbreun near the roundabout—is having a super-special deal right now. This week and this week only everything on the menu is 50 percent off. This is in addition to the two-for-one margaritas and beer at happy hour. A steal at lunch or late night, they’re open ‘till 4 a.m. Thursday-Saturday.

Same but Different

Welcome to the first episode of a recurring Bites series called Same but Different. This feature will examine things that are the same but, yes, different.

For example, in the photograph above you see two aluminum chairs that look pretty much the same, but they are actually very...well, you know. One is the classic design of the 1950s-era Navy chair manufactured by Emeco. The other is a knock-off.

One is the chair you will sit in while dining at Ombi. The other you will find at City House.

One costs approximately $400. The other is available for less than a C-note.

One had a cameo in last week's episode of the glitzy new drama Lipstick Jungle.

Who can tell the difference between the two chairs? Who knows which is where and how much? More importantly, who cares?

This has been an episode of Same but Different. In future episodes we will examine other similar but different pairs, such as the nearly interchangeable Sex in the City spin-offs Lipstick Jungle and Cashmere Mafia. When appropriate, such comparisons might give way to the occasional Mr. Pink's® Death Match, in which we will somehow pit the similar but different items against each other in a bloodless and wager-free competition.

If you would like to submit a pair of similar but different items for consideration, please send your idea, along with a self-addressed stamped envelop and $100 cash to Bites. Or simply post your ideas below.

Breakfast of Champions

Last night I saw for the first time the new Dunkin' Donuts commercial featuring the slogan “America Runs on Dunkin'.”

Is it just me, or does the new campaign remind anyone else of this?

Pleased to Meat Me

A couple weeks ago, I received a package from a friend in San Francisco, which included two items: a plush toy called "Cute Poo," roughly the shape of a pile of number two, and a magazine called Meatpaper—issue number one—which calls itself "Your journal of meat culture."

The enclosed note read: "One of these made me think of you, and the other is for [my seven-month-old son]. Guess which one is which."

At any rate, Meatpaper is more interesting than I thought it would be. It's about meat, but its editors distinguish themselves from other magazines about meat by saying: "Meatpaper is the only magazine about the idea of meat." (Emphasis mine.)

Which is to say that they consider meat from many angles. For example, alongside an article on "the new school of old-school butcher shops" there's an essay on whether kosher meat is ethical, which poses the question: "[I]f killing animals through schechita is less cruel than killing them by conventional means, wouldn't the least cruel path be not to kill them at all?"

There's also an essay about meat art that includes discussion of a dress made of lamb and a meat-themed poem (not written in a strict, ahem, meat-er). In this New York Times article, editor Amy Standen (a former vegetarian) says, “We find over and over again that bacon is the conversion meat.” Apparently the second issue poses the cannibalism question.

I called Davis-Kidd to see if they carry Meatpaper, but the person I spoke to said they don't. The magazine's website says it's carried at Barnes and Noble.

UPDATE: The two magazine articles are now linked to the online versions.

Right to Left

Yesterday we stopped for lunch at Chimalles Mexican Grill, the new burrito place on Demonbreun. We ordered two fish tacos, one chicken taco and a beef Debraska taco. Our recommendation: Stick with the beef, which was along the lines of pot roast, and load up on the fresh salsa, including mango and pineapple, on the bar at the back of the room.

If I had to guess, I'd wager that the Chimalles team spent a fair amount of time out on Thompson Lane, taking in the details of a longstanding and much-loved little burrito joint. Chimalles is a large store, with a cavernous effect and an echo-y ambiance in the turqouise room with accents of wood and corregated. The oversize paintings of Southwestern icons are cool, and the service, while a little awkward and somewhat thwarted by a language barrier, was generally enthusiastic. We would have enjoyed a little guidance in how to build a fish taco from the many ingredients on the toppings line, but there didn't appear to be any recommended recipe. We had a little of everything, which, generally speaking, was very fresh: cilantro, pink onions, pico, tomatoes, lettuce, guacamole, cheese, corn-and-bean salsa, sour cream, and a mysterious pink cream dressing, which sounded like “wasabi sauce.”

The store is clean and colorful, and the price is right—we clocked out for under $12 for two—but I couldn't help feeling a sense of dislocation, a certain something that I couldn't put my finger on until later. Upon reflection, I realized why I was out of sorts: The buffet line moves from left to right.

Losing My Religion

Bless me, Food Gods, for I have sinned. It has been a really, really long time since my last confession.

I have tried to be good, but, with a newborn and a wife with crazy work hours, it's been hard to do the right thing. I confess: We've eaten a lot of prepackaged frozen food, and eaten out a lot of carry-out. We've also let beautiful, locally grown organic vegetables rot in the fridge. And, er...and....

Last week, I ate a McRib.

Bikini Bird

A reader just sent in this recipe and photo, gleaned from the ever-generous InterWeb. (No, it's not a snapshot from my summer vacation.)

Recipe for Bikini Turkey

1. Cut out aluminum foil in desired shapes.
2. Dress turkey accordingly.
3. Roast and serve.

Optional: Add paprika to basting juice for a deeper tan.

Birthday Wrap

Here's the problem. It's your wife's 30th birthday, and you want to do something special for her, as evinced by this message:

"On this monumental day, my beautiful, only slightly older wife turns 30. I would like to take a moment and tell her how wonderful she is as a friend, mother and wife. We've been married for three years Oct. 23 and every day I realize how blessed I am to have her in my life. Stephanie Simon Surratt, I love you with all my heart. Happy 30th Birthday!"

So two questions come to mind. One, where does husband Jerry take his beloved for her milestone birthday dinner? Two, what food-related gift does he give her, and from where?

Oh, and happy birthday, Stephanie.

Dessert Oasis

As an inveterate sweet-tooth, I more often than not complain about desserts at restaurants. Too often, it seems, menus use delicious words like "souffle" and "molten lava" to describe cakes that are disappointingly dense, cold or both. But that was not the case this weekend at Radius10, where pastry chef Ray Luther is delivering an understated and delicious menu of treats.

Not since you got your chocolate in my peanut butter—no, you got your peanut butter in my chocolate—has the marriage of two perfect foods formed a more perfect union than brownie brulee. A modest square of rich, moist brownie, topped with cool, creamy custard and a brittle layer of caramelized sugar, garnished with a not-too-fluffy dollop of whipped cream, might be the most immodestly decadent dessert in town.

Luther's banana souffle—which I first encountered during his days at Macke's in Green Hills last year—has also found its way to the Gulch. When the elegant puff arrived at our table, our server punctured the top with a chocolate wand and poured a small pitcher of vanilla cream into the hole. The wand immediately dissolved into the molten center, and we devoured the steamy, creamy souffle before it even had a chance to slouch. I drank the remaining vanilla cream from the tiny pitcher (and used my napkin to wipe the bridge of my nose).

As a professional complainer, I am happy to take a moment to praise both the banana souffle and the brownie brulee. (See, I'm not a culinary malcontent.) But here's my concern: Once you've crossed the streams of brownie and brulee, what's left? Where can you go from there? What better things can you combine? I open it up to Bites for suggestions. Let's hope Ray Luther is reading.

Scenes from Whole Foods Mania, Take #1

(Enter CARRINGTON, breathless from a journey to Whole Foods. MR. PINK looks up from pathetic hunt-and-peck typing in dark office.)

CARRINGTON: Would you believe they have...a cranberry bog!

(Pause for emphasis. MR. PINK apparently fails to look impressed enough.)

CARRINGTON: A cranberry bog! They have a cranberry bog in the store! You bob for cranberries!

MR. PINK: Oh! Wow! Jeez! That's great!

(CARRINGTON rushes off to alert rest of editorial staff. Her Paul Revere-like cries echo distantly in the parking garage.)

MR. PINK: I hate cranberries.

This has been a Scene from Whole Foods Mania.

Boo

What's your favorite candy?
What are you giving out tonight to trick-or-treaters?
Are you dressing up? (For Halloween, I mean.)
Does anyone have a recipe for using up leftover candy corn?

Speaking of candy corn, I swiped this image from HowStuffWorks.com, where you can learn a whole lot about candy corn.

A Satisfied Mind

Like everyone else this morning, we were thinking about the late Opry legend Porter Wagoner, who died last night at age 80 after one of the defining careers in country music. By chance, we found this recipe Wagoner submitted in Kay West's new book, Around the Opry Table: A Feast of Recipes and Stories from the Grand Ole Opry. It made us smile, and it made us picture the man in all his star-spangled, good-humored glory. Here, without ado, is Porter's Chocolate Fudge.

2 c. sugar
2 tbsp. cocoa
1/2 tsp. salt
1/4 c. Log Cabin syrup
Milk
2 tbsp. butter
1 tsp. vanilla
2 tbsp. peanut butter
1/2 c. English walnuts, chopped

Mix sugar, cocoa, salt and syrup together in a saucepan, then add enough milk to make it soupy, but very thick. Bring to a boil, and boil until sugar is dissolved (4 to 5 minutes). Test by dropping small spoonfuls into water until it forms a ball. Remove from heat and add butter and vanilla. Stir until it begins to cool. Add peanut butter and walnuts. Pour into large platter, and hold a gun on yourself so you'll wait until it cools!

Parlor Game #2: Latrobe's Other Drink

I just ate dinner at Bricktop's ($5 kids menu can't be beat), where my husband ordered an Arnold Palmer. I had never heard this name for a mixture of iced tea and lemonade, which is apparently a favorite of Bricktop's founder Joe Ledbetter. It reminds me of when we used to run to-go cups under all the fountain drinks at Mapco to make a Suicide. But it sounds a lot clubbier.

If you were to have a mixed drink named for you, what would it be?