Meanwhile, in Miami's Design District...

For months folks had been telling my friend Gregg that he simply had to try this new French place just south of posh Morningside Park in Miami. He had been putting it off, but when I showed up all I had to hear was the word "bistro" and I was deaf to all other considerations. St. Francis de Sales - Patron Saint of Bloggers (well, writers and journalists, actually; there is no blogging Saint yet) - must have been interceding on my behalf as we were a party of four and I was able to convince everyone into ordering something different from the menu for reviewing purposes. This was not to be the only time our group would suffer for my "art".

Another Miami New Times "Best Of..." winner, Buena Vista Bistro opened in May of 2008 and has already built a solid reputation as an authentic French eatery with a loyal following of locals and word-of-mouth visitors. During our visit, I spied a rather shabby gentleman, glass of wine close at hand, anchored at the bar whom the owner never passed without a brief word. He was obviously a welcome regular. I could easily imagine the same scene in any village in southern France. Think Peter Mayle, and you'll get the picture.

Chef Claude Postel relies on market-fresh ingredients, so the menu changes daily. Offerings are posted on a big chalk board hung over the bar. As the night progresses, items are lined through when the kitchen runs out of an appetizer or entrée. I love that. It signals freshness to me and a serendipitous way of living. I'm not gonna read too much into that; maybe you shouldn't either!

Upon arriving, we were greeted by the sweetest little German waitress. She had only been in the States a few weeks, and immediately won our hearts. She was the picture of indulgence waiting for us to agree upon a wine. I think she surmised fairly quickly that we would be a fun group, but a handful. As she cheerfully walked away we set to a serious perusal of the menu. It wasn't much of a struggle to get everyone to order different entrées but when Gregg and Jimmy saw the escargots à la provençale appetizer, negotiations broke down quickly. Liza, our fourth, extended an olive branch by ordering the caprese salad, allowing me to try the house favorite: rillettes du mans, a sort of slow-cooked, shredded pork dish served pâté-style with cornichons, mustard and country bread.

Well, with our group, conversation and wine flowed freely. I'll admit it, I attract a crowd of "wabble wousers" who aren't particularly shy about the bottle. I espouse moderation yet despise practicing it! Besides, I hadn't seen any of these people in months, and there was some catching up to do. But we're a harmless lot and maintain a modicum of decorum when in public. Before too long, plates starting emerging from the kitchen, and what a spread. Postel, a seventh-generation chef from Paris, is well grounded in the rustic dishes of his native land. Everything is served up in a simple, no-frills, unapologetic manner, and the effect is reassuring. More impressively, the dishes shine.

Jimmy and Gregg swooned over their snails! I took a tour of the Burgundy wine region many years ago and tried escargot at the urging of my French traveling companion. I didn't know what to expect, but what I remember most from the experience now was a sense of epiphany. I didn't have to subsist on a diet of pizza and burgers. Horizons were opened up to me. After a disappointing reprise at a very expensive restaurant in San Francisco, I swore I would never order snails outside France again. I now have to eat those words. Postel serves his escargot without its shell in a herbed stock with tomato, garlic and butter. You could actually pick up the subtle earthy taste of the flesh. It wasn't masked by salt, wine or garlic. I was transported back to France and had a maddening urge to call my Franco friend. Liza's caprese had creamy mozzarella wedged between tomato slices and a pesto topping. The chef had cleverly trimmed one side of each tomato to allow the salad to stand up in its layers. My rillettes was even better than described by our little Deutche Fräulein. It was meaty & thick, and I felt as if I should be sporting a beret and espadrilles.

There is a movie included in my Food Triumvirate*: "Babette's Feast", where a destitute French chef is taken in as a housekeeper by two Danish spinsters, and in appreciation prepares a grand meal for their entire village. In one scene, the diners can be seen looking longingly between courses at the door from where the food will come. That's how we behaved after our starters. I know... right?

By our second bottle, we were speculating on the deliciousness yet to come. Jimmy, strictly a meat-n-potatoes man, chose the Bœuf bourguignon - slow-cooked for days with carrots, onions and a sinful wine reduction - served with garlic mashed potatoes. The sauce would have made a credible stand-alone soup; just add noodles or rice. The meat a tenderness only grandmothers from the Old Country know how to pull off, and the potatoes perfection; not a single lump and creamy enough to serve for dessert.

Gregg trumped me with his order: three expertly seared jumbo scallops. Sweet, tender, moist. Hyperbole has not yet invented words to justly describe Chef Postel's light hand with the sauté pan. Suffice it to say the man is a god. The gods are among us. Liza and I also opted for seafood. She wisely chose the swordfish special with an incredible raspberry sauce. More tangy than sweet, it proved the ideal partner to lead the crispy-skinned, tender piece of fish across the dance floor. My peppercorn tuna was meaty, yet moist; firm, but still flaky. It floated in a reduction so rich Buena Vista had a dental hygienist on call just in case.

What does one do after so spectacular a meal? Usually, I groan into a cup of strong black coffee and pine for my bed. But in this instance there was only one inevitability: dessert. I am not a dessert kind of guy. Even as a kid, I never had a sweet tooth. No birthday cake for me, I'll have a steak, please. Proffer me seconds and I'll push away from the table satisfied. Yet culinary probity demanded something sugary. We allowed the enthusiasm in our young German's description to sway us into having apple pie with vanilla ice cream (I wish the written word could do justice to her marvelous accent!), and profiteroles with chocolate sauce.

I swore I would never do this, but OMG! No, wait: Oh.My.God. That wasn't apple pie, it was a French apple tart with vertical rows of apples. They stood up like Napoleon's army. They were caramelized and dusted with powdered sugar. They should have come with a warning label. The noise level at our table increased as we tried to outdo each other in homage to that dish. The cream puffs were only slightly less impressing, and only because there's just something about apples & vanilla ice cream to the American palate. Yet the choux pastry was fluffy and airy. The cream filling ever so sweet. The chocolate sauce would have driven you to your knees.

I mentioned earlier the suffering of my fellow diners. How do you think I got such terrific photographs? Every time a plate came out, I forced everyone to wait while I lined up the perfect shot. Nibbling was prohibited and enforced under threat of bodily harm. And yet, uncomplaining, my pals endured my fastidiousness. In recompense, I picked up the tab. Worth every bite, do-over, and penny!

Buena Vista Bistro 4582 NE 2nd Avenue Miami, FL 33137 305-456-5909 Open 11am - midnight, Tuesday through Sunday; 1pm - midnight Mondays. Virtually every entrée is under $20, and there's an enviable French and American wine list.

Bon appétit - Blog O. Food

* "Like Water For Chocolate" and "Big Night" are the other two entries rounding out my ruling body of three.

For Your Consideration...

I give you the King Burger: 12 oz. of 100% USDA Prime top sirloin; toasted sesame seed bun; lettuce, tomato & red onion; additional toppings available.

I'm back from a trip to Miami, FLA (guess the musical reference) to catch up with friends, defrost my toes and play some golf. Along the way, I remembered to pack my Press pass and logged some more miles as neophyte food blogger. Only a few more posts 'til I qualify for the Williams-Sonoma oven mitts!

I can confidently report that the State of Food in south Florida has never been stronger. Restaurants continue to pop up on Biscayne Boulevard and most are showing little sign of closing up shop anytime soon. I dined at several old favorites, tried a couple of new establishments, and walked away thoroughly impressed. Merchants continue to find new niches for the dining public: an abandoned cinderblock shack transformed into a quasi-gourmet hotdog stand, a car wash coffee shop turned chic outdoor café, a new sushi and tempura restaurant re-defining fusion cuisine, and here I'm just beginning to scratch the surface.

But I have to tell you about Kingdom. Located right on Biscayne Boulevard, just south of the 79th Street Causeway, Kingdom was crowned Best Bar Food by Miami New Times. I am willing to go further by proclaiming the Kingdom burger The Best Hamburger I Have Ever Tasted. I cornered the chef one afternoon, and he couldn't wait to brag about his food. His beef is never frozen. Burger meat is ground fresh daily, produce comes in directly from farms in Immokalee, fries and onion rings are hand cut, and attention to detail is the driving philosophy. I've eaten at Kingdom several times, and in fact insist on at least one lunch there whenever in Miami. It's become something of a standing joke with my friends Gregg and Jimmy, but they like to indulge me I guess.

This last visit met every expectation. Great seats at the outside bar with sports acting as background noise on the plasma televisions and a bartender who's become a favorite for the past couple of years. He's never failed to remember me and for that, my ego is eternally grateful. He's so comfortable around us now, he shares bawdy songs from his iPod whenever he thinks he can get away with it. But let's get to the burger, shall we?

Kingdom offers three burgers: Queen Burger - 8 oz. sandwich, $8 King Burger - 12 oz. sandwich, $9 Doomsday Burger - 24 oz. sandwich, $17. There is a challenge with the Doomsday. If you can eat the entire thing in under 15 minutes, the burger is free. Should you fail however, Kingdom skins you for twenty bucks. Seems fair, but I have yet to step up to the plate. All burgers are cooked perfectly, PERFECTLY to order and for $.75 ea., you can add cheese, bacon, grilled onions and mushrooms. A basket of fries is $3, onion rings $3.50, or a mixed  basket for $4.

The meat is marbled with flavor. There's a very agreeable nuttiness to the taste. The cook adds just enough salt to accent the beef, and you never get that blandness that comes with chewing cheap cuts of meat. If you order cheese, it's not just plopped on top of the patty, but is almost fused with the meat. Chef wouldn't tell me exactly how he accomplished that without over-cooking the burger, but I one-upped him later in my interrogation.

Jimmy, Gregg and I each ordered burgers with one basket of fries and one of onion rings to share among us. Which to describe first: onions or fries. Let's start with the rings and then I'll tell you how I trumped the chef. If you check the You Gonna Finish That archives you can see a photo of a mass of dough, batter and brutally tortured onions. Not so at Kingdom. The onion rings came out looking as if they had been battered in Panko bread crumbs and a farm-fresh egg wash, and then individually fried to a Coppertone-tan golden brown. It was almost a crime to consume such flawlessness. But then what would be the point? But the fries, gentle readers, the fries! Kingdom prides itself on a strictly confidential herb and spice recipe that is tossed with piping hot potatoes right out of the fryer. The chef was struck dumb when I identified every ingredient in his "secret" seasoning. He swore me to secrecy, but here is one component that you'll be amazed to learn adds such subtle character to the rest of the spices: dried parsley flake. Who woulda thunk it, right? Well, after that, I earned a new respect from Chef in spite of my shady credentials as food blogger.

Kingdom 6708 Biscayne Boulevard, Miami, FL 33138 305-757-0074 Open daily for lunch and dinner. Beer and wine only. All major credit cards accepted. When you go, ask the bartender for his version of the classic Shandy. You will not be displeased.

Thanks for taking the time - Blog O. Food

The Contrarian, Or The Art of Tailgating

There is something you should know about my boy Whogus: the man is a sports freak. Oh, not your everyday garden variety sports fan. He is a savant. But you'll never seen him glued to the TV in his dingy apartment, or high-fiving total strangers in some cheesy sports bar. Nope, Whogus will be at the epicenter of every major sporting event in the greater Bay Area: The Tailgate Party. He may not know which team is playing, or even what sport he's attending, but he'll know to within a half degree the ambient heat of his four barbeque grills, the precise BTU output of his six-burner portable stove, and the exact temperature - in Celsius, no less - of his beer cooler.

Actually, none of that is true, and he would probably kill me if he ever bothered to read this blog (we're not all that close, really). He thinks people who watch sports instead of playing them are pathetic. He's quite opinionated on the subject. But the man can grill. Instead of rattles and teething rings, Whogus played with spatulas and tongs as a toddler. His destiny was sealed at an early age. When not hobnobbing with his high-society friends or throwing back G&Ts on the lawns of his parents' estate, Whogus will have his "Kiss the Cook" apron on, charcoal chimney at the ready.

During my holiday visit he picked up a tri-tip of beef, some green & red bell peppers and asparagus, and informed me that he would be manning the grill that evening. Not one to be excluded, I volunteered a marinade for the roast, and a warm potato salad to which my father had introduced me over Christmas. Whogus is a wine merchant, so I knew we were in for one of his singularly indulgent late nights.

With lots of advance notice, a good marinade can really flavor a cut of meat. Salt and a good olive oil will help it retain moisture once it hits the grill. Here's what I came up with:

½ each red and green bell peppers, de-seeded and membrane removed, finely minced ¼-cup extra virgin olive oil 2 cloves garlic, finely pressed dash Worcestershire and soy sauces fresh ground pepper Combine all ingredients together in a small mixing bowl. Whisk to incorporate the oil and the liquids. Pour over top of the tri-tip, flipping the roast to marinate both sides. Cover and refrigerate for at least 2 hours (I had six). Turn the beef occasional to keep the entire cut marinating. I omitted the salt in the marinade, as there is plenty in the added sauces.

When Whogus returned from work that evening he donned his BBQ holster and fired up his Weber 3000, and I prepped the vegetables. In a more perfect world, there would be two ways, and two ways only to eat vegetables: raw, or hot off the grill. Grilling caramelizes some of the sugars found in almost every vegetable, bringing out a sweetness one would never suspect of a pepper or root. The beautiful charring is always eye-catching, and just makes for an agreeable presentation.

One should make larger cuts when prepping vegetables for the grill. They're more manageable on the grates and resist their natural urge to fall into the fire. You can always cut them in smaller pieces once they've finished cooking.

Toss prepped vegetables in a light coating of olive oil, and add them to the grill about halfway through cooking time for the beef. Keep and eye on them. You want nice sear marks, not charred lumps of pure carbon.

I mentioned a warm potato salad my father made for me over Christmas. It was so simple and delicious, I knew it was gonna end up in my repertoire. Dad gave a red onion a medium chop, and 4 or 5 gherkin pickles a rough chop by way of prep work. Some quartered Yukon Gold potatoes were set to the boil. Once the potatoes were fork tender, Dad drained them, added mayonnaise and the chopped ingredients and mashed them! I should have known. Nothing with Pops O'Food is straightforward. I was ready to turn my nose up at them, but couldn't believe how much I enjoyed them. His secret ingredient was pickle juice from the jar. Here's my variation:

6 medium Yukon Gold potatoes, scrubbed, quartered, skins left intact 2 hard-boiled eggs, thinly sliced 1 medium red onion, medium chopped 4 gherkin pickles, quartered and roughly chopped 1 Tbsp finely chopped fresh dill ½-cup yogurt ¼-cup mayonnaise Salt and freshly ground pepper

Set potatoes to boil in plenty of salted water in an un-covered stock pot. Once potatoes are fork tender, drain them and pour into a large serving bowl. Add the yogurt, mayonnaise, salt and pepper and mix gently to incorporate. Add the onion, pickle and dill and mix thoroughly, and again gently. The mixing will break down the quartered potatoes but still leave some lumps for texture. Layer slices of boiled egg over the top and serve.

Back to the Tri-tip:

Remove the bell peppers once they've developed nice sear marks and before they begin to wilt. Once your cut of beef reaches an internal temperature of 140° (medium-rare), remove from the grill, cover lightly with aluminum foil, and let rest for 15 minutes.

Slice the tri-tip against the grain at a bias into thin strips. Layer on a dinner plate, top with the bell peppers, the asparagus spears on the side. Spoon a generous mound of potato salad to one side and tuck in. A Storrs 2005 Santa Cruz Mountains Petite Syrah would in no way be objectionable with this meal. Nor would a second bottle for that matter, and then a glass of 20-year old tawny Port with a piece of dark chocolate for dessert. I warned you things would get decadent.

Thanks for taking the time - Blog O. Food