Acquolina – good Italian away from Italy

It’s not every day that you are served lunch on white tablecloths with wine glasses next to water ones and cloth napkins folded like masterpieces. But then again, it’s not every day you share lunch with your grandma.

Since I am not home that often, I sneak in a few lunch dates with my grandma when I am around. Yesterday, she suggested an Italian place in Weston called Acquolina, meaning “mouth watering.”

Italian food is always conducive to hearty laughter, family time and sitting around for hours talking about nothing in particular. Acquolina specializes in southern Italian cooking. The trattoria is formal with clean-cut, white-aproned waiters and candles on each table. The warm blue hues of the restaurant are soothing, even at lunchtime, and hand-painted writing on the wall says something about entering as strangers but leaving as family. Businessmen in suits, fathers and daughters, and stay-at-home moms filled the waterfront eatery at around noon.

Warm bread with oil and vinegar were placed on our table and heavy menus were handed to us. I opened it quickly and gestured our waiter back over to ask if there were a lunch menu. He informed me that I was looking at it. Acquolina had such an extensive lunch list of appetizers, main courses, pasta dishes and flat breads that I mistakenly believed it was the dinner menu.

Italian food, with cheeses and sauces and bread, tends to be heavy. Although midday meals should be heavier than dinners, I simply could not bring myself to indulge too much. After giving the lunch menu a once-over, I had a few plates in mind – a salad, a flat bread and a panini. My grandma was also having a tough time choosing, so we ordered a cobb salad and homemade meatballs to share.

The salad, with mixed greens, buffalo mozzarella and charcoal-grilled chicken tossed in balsamic vinaigrette, was large enough to be our meal. The hot chicken atop the cold, crunchy lettuce left nothing to be desired.

The meatballs were different than expected. They were served on Italian bread and covered in mozzarella like a meatball sub. Not wanting so much bread, I removed the two pieces on my half and ate the meatballs with a fork and knife. The meatballs themselves had just enough cheese to keep them firm, and the marinara sauce was sweet, yet basily. My two meatballs, sans the bread and extra mozzarella cheese, quickly filled me up, especially after the salad. They also spotted my white shirt with red sauce, but I didn't care.

Parmesan-sprinkled fries accompanied the meatball panini, yet my grandma and I were too full to even try them. Once we were done eating, the waiter did not rush us out of the restaurant, which made our dining experience even more enjoyable. When the check came and indicated that our lunch was only about $20, my grandma and I commented on how inexpensive it was for the two of us, especially based on the quality, the good service and the amount of food.

On the way out, I stopped in the bathroom and on the mirror, written in someone’s white eyeliner, it said: “Women in Sicily are like shotguns.” I am not sure if one of the staff wrote it or a patron did, but it made me chuckle. Turns out when you are at Acquolina, you really are family, from the cooked-to-order home-style cooking to the stereotypical Italian quips.

KP’s Crumbs: For a true Italian lunch, this Weston trattoria is perfect. Go with an appetite and try some of their delicious homemade meatballs, but definitely don't wear white. Then, check the bathroom and be sure to let me know if my favorite little ditty is still on the mirror.

My end of the date rate the plate: Normally, forking with your family at romantic restaurants is a huge “no-no,” but Acquolina is an exception. This up-scale establishment is a classy and tasty way to fork and spoon at lunchtime. Though I am not sure about Acquolina’s dinner, at lunch, you certainly get a lot of great bang for your buck.

Acquolina

2320 Weston Road, Weston, Florida, 954-389-1880

Amsterdam: Pancakes and Poffertjes

Some call Amsterdam "Venice of the North." With hundreds of windy canals, wobbly buildings, narrow staircases and tons of biking, it’s no wonder it’s easy to work up a hefty appetite. On just about every street, “munchie food” is sold. From chocolate-dipped waffles and hot French fries to frosted doughnuts and slabs of cheesy pizza, this city does fatty food right.    

During a February trip to Amsterdam, my travel buddies and I were told not to miss The Pancake Bakery, located just about a block away from the Anne Frank House. After a little sight seeing, the three of us made our way to this homey pancake joint. Our large midday appetites kept our eyes bigger than our stomachs as we ogled the menu.

Sweet and savory pancakes, filled with bananas, strawberries, warm cherries, Nutella and raisins appealed to me, though I am sure if I had had breakfast I might have been interested in pancakes filled with lamb, fresh bell pepper and garlic or tomato, cheese, basil and pesto.

When a rather large plate was walked past us, the sugary smell was overwhelming, but I knew there was no way I could ever order the traditional pancakes. Instead I turned my attention to the children’s pancake list and ordered the kiddie-sized pancakes with bananas and powered sugar. The one large pancake stuffed with chunks of fresh banana and doused in messy powdered sugar was practically the same size as the regular-sized pancakes my friends ordered, and, of course, tasted just as scrumptious.

But Holland is known for their Poffertjes – tiny pancakes that are made with much lighter batter and are typically flipped in their special cast-iron cupcake-like pan before one side finishes cooking. I convinced the guys to split an order of these little delights with me. Being a raging chocoholic, I selected the Poffertjes with chocolate sauce.

Between my two friends and me, the mini Poffertjes were gone within five minutes. We all agreed we should have split a few more orders instead of eating our individually ordered pancakes. Not only is Amsterdam a sinful city, but its food is scrumptiously sinful too.

KP’s Crumbs: Poffertjes are worth every calorie. Bring some loved ones to The Pancake Bakery and split a few orders of different types of Poffertjes. Resist the urge to order pancakes, and I can promise that everyone with a sweet tooth will surely enjoy. Plus, if you decide you want more, the chef can quickly whip more up.  

My end of the date rate the plate: The Pancake Bakery’s Poffertjes are to die for. Heck, the bite-sized babies are so good, you might even want to fork and spoon them on the street. But don’t worry, that’s probably legal in Amsterdam.        

King of all markets: La Boqueria

From January to April of 2009, I spent my way eating through Europe. Though I was based in Barcelona to study and perfect my Spanish, I was at the crux of rich, flavorful Mediterranean fare and a hub for quick, relatively cheap plane rides to the rest of Europe’s delicious offerings.

In Barcelona, I savored homemade Catalonian cuisine and spent my days gallivanting around the city in search of Mom-and-Pop cafés, fancy dinner-date locales, after-hour eateries, picnic-worthy marketplaces and open-air markets. While nearly every place I ate in conjured up thoughts of a long-lost American counterpart, I could not imagine anything even remotely comparable to Barcelona’s most famous food market, La Boqueria off of La Rambla (arguably the most famous street in all of Barcelona).

In the United States, we have traveling and stationery markets, bazaars and the occasional festival. NYC has its weekly farmer’s market in Union Square; LA has its farmer's market. But all too often, American open-air food fairs are cluttered with crafts and flowers. While these artsy goods are beautiful to say the least, they outshine or take away from the food itself.

At La Boqueria, this is not the case. The food is an art form. It’s inspirational. From the cold fruit juice and rich candy to the picture-perfect fruit displays and meat still on the bone, La Boqueria is, by far, the most awe-inspiring market I have ever been to. The colors, the smells, the touches, the sounds and the tastes entice all five senses. The vendors, who set up and tear down every single day, take pride in the presentation of their stands – for if they didn’t, the competition from the other vendors would surely steal their business. Though many local Catalonians make daily trips to the market to purchase the freshest ingredients for their meals, even those who hate to cook or don’t have access to a kitchen will enjoy walking around.  

The market is divided into sections. The fruit and vegetable vendors are all close together, just as the meat sellers, the fish and seafood personnel and the cheese specialists are. Some give samples in order to snag their customers. Some chant to attract tourists. But everyone yells orders across the way. The liveliness is contagious.

In addition to the sellers’ stands, there are also a few walk-up restaurants that prepare paella, Spanish tortilla, bread with tomato and fried seafood using only the fresh ingredients from the vendors at the market. On any given day, locals take a seat at the bar, eat lunch and return to work. Of course, the places with the longest lines are considered the favorites, and typically they have the best food. The prices tend to be a bit steep (about 17 Euros a person), but the ingredients and fish are fresh and filling.    

There are only a few downsides to La Boqueria. It opens early (by Barcelona standards, anyway) at 8 a.m., and it closes by 3 p.m. Most of the vendors only take cash, and they prefer for you to speak in Spanish or Catalan (don’t let them fool you though, nearly everyone can speak English). Lastly, the fish and meat sections of the market can be a bit unappetizing if you lack a strong stomach, but at least you can be sure it’s all fresh.  

After spending time perusing the market, you can cruise La Rambla (the famous street), which hosts a variety of floral vendors, street performers and artists on its center walkway. I can certainly attest to the fact that there’s nothing as good as walking along La Rambla on a sunny day while enjoying some fruit from La Boqueria. It’s an experience you don’t want to miss.    

KP’s Crumbs: If you are ever in Barcelona, La Boqueria is a must. But be sure to get there before 3 p.m. or else the gate will be closed and you’ll miss all of the action and great food. Sip on an icy mango juice for 2 Euros and pick up a container of assorted fresh fruit to taste how sweet all fruit should taste.

My end of the date rate the plate: Worthy of multiple forkings and lots of spooning. You may even find yourself craving more.  

Duffy's: Grand slam or strike out?

Saturday night, I decided to take one for the team. Last Friday, Duffy’s Sports Grill opened in Plantation, and my grandparents, dad and step mom wanted to try it out - not opening day, but the second. Andrew, my stepsister and I were game.

Duffy’s is the kind of place filled with tumultuous laugher and rowdy cheers. You don’t have to worry about talking too loudly. It’s great for family meals out, dinner after little league sports games or a guy’s night out.

Signed jerseys, photographs, helmets and other sports memorabilia create the stereotypical sporty environment. Flat-screened TVs featuring football games, baseball games and golf are within eyesight no matter where you look. And the waitresses dress as softball players or tennis stars, with hats and skirts and all. It’s a true manly man’s haven. Heck, Andrew cared more about the 2003 all-star game playing on the big screen, than talking to me, so you know this sports bar is doing something right!  

Though my grandparents only asked for a table for five, the wait staff quickly pulled over another table to accommodate our two extra guests as we all looked over the menu. They didn’t complain about giving us an extra table even though the people in the Saturday-night line around the building, standing in the rain, were begging to get off the wait list and get in.

Because every once in a while I crave wings with a zip and crunchy fries, I had decided, even before walking into Duffy’s, that I needed wings. Without much of an appetite because of a late lunch, I ordered the Wings 3 Ways to share with my dad. I opted for the original, the Asian sesame and the honey garlic, and I requested the wings be naked since I am not a fan of over breading. I typically find it too annoying to eat actual "wings," so I ordered all drumsticks for a $2 up-charge, and I resisted the urge to order the sweet potato fries, even though they are typically my favorite, knowing that I could snag a few from my step mom.

Our wings arrived on a three-tiered platter to separate the flavors. They were served with crunchy sticks of carrots and celery and blue cheese dressing as dip. I was impressed. But Duffy’s initial hit was immediately an out when I realized I didn’t have all drumettes. Not wanting to be picky and trying to shake off the first out, my dad and I chowed down. After our first few bites, we gave each other hand signs to signal that we agreed the wings weren’t even lukewarm. Despite my pleading, my dad called “time,” sending the wings back.

I must admit that our waiter diligently kept our sodas and waters filled. He checked up on us constantly and was eager to correct the wing error to turn the game around in Duffy’s favor.

After the seventh-inning stretch, Duffy’s brought in its relief. My dad and I were ravenous. We had watched the rest of our team devour their mini cheeseburgers, chicken fingers and Ruben sandwiches. This time, our wings were hot. The original had just enough punch; the Asian sesame had a hint of tanginess; and the honey garlic – my favorites of the night – were sticky and sweet. I caught myself licking the sauce off of my fingers, even as the rest of my party waited for me to finish.    

Overall, I’d give Duffy’s a mere single. The set-up and coaches are right, it could just use a whole lot more coordination and practice, especially as a new restaurant on a crowded Saturday night.  

KP's Crums:  If you're game for Duffy's, be sure to ask for the wings to be served hot (not spicy hot, just temperature hot). 

My end of the date rate the plate: Not worthy of another fork unless, of course, you can't find another set of wings to satisfy your foodie call. 

Forking and Spooning

When asked to pinpoint the initial spark of my obsession with food and restaurants, I am taken back to my childhood days. Every night of the week constituted a different themed meal at my family’s favorite restaurants. As I remember, one night was Mexican cuisine, another was Japanese, another was Indian, and my favorite of all was Thai. I quickly learned the importance of good food, good service and good company.

After spending hours researching restaurants online, watching the Food Network every chance I get, reading Bon Appetite, Gourmet and the Thursday food section of the New York Times, taking cooking classes in Barcelona and eating my way through Europe and New York City, I have come to realize that food is my forte. Not simply an obsession, but my purpose in life.

To me, restaurants are about celebrating on big and small scales. Whether eating with family, going on dates, grabbing midnight snacks or catching up with old friends, food and restaurants bring people together.  

But why fork first, spoon later?

At summer camp, I took etiquette classes and learned that the F-O-R-K goes on the L-E-F-T because each word has four letters, while the five-letter-word S-P-O-O-N goes on the R-I-G-H-T. But it’s not just because of proper table settings that forks should precede spoons. The main dish (the meal that takes the fork) should always be followed by a spoonful-worthy dessert, even if life is short.

As such, with meals, just as well as with real life, everyone knows that it’s crucial to fork first, spoon later. So as I take on multiple dates with a variety of plates, you can be sure there’ll be tons of forking and spooning. I can't wait to share all my experiences about my foodie-calls. Here’s the dish…

KP's Crumbs (aka my extra need-to-know tidbits): The posts prior to this on Fork First, Spoon Later come from my other blog about my life and my travels, KP in the City. I have decided to include these here because they constitute my first food and restaurant raves. From here on out, all of my food adventures will posted here instead of on KP in the City.   

Journey: Bimini and its backyard baker

In addition to being about sparklers, picnics, grilling and those ever-so-pesky mosquitoes, the Fourth of July conjures images of time off and laughing with family and friends. Normally, my body craves a day of swimming in my pool, soaking up the sun and sinking my teeth into a buttery, open-flame-cooked corn-on-the-cob. The muggy Florida heat can’t hamper my excitement for the “snap-crackle-pop” fireworks that I like to believe are Rice Crispys for the sky’s midnight snack. 

But for this year’s Fourth, one of my best friends, Rachel, and her family invited me to Bimini, an island in the Bahamas that celebrates America’s independence just because its heavy hand in tourism forces it to. I joined Rach and her family on a private boat to the island for a four-day getaway full of snorkeling, scuba diving and racing around in golf carts on the “wrong” side of the road. The two-hour boat ride from Miami made Bimini a quick, laid-back escape from the hustle and bustle of South Florida city life. And I didn’t even forget my passport.

Since the only way to get to the island is by boat or seaplane, Bimini is as close as I’ll probably ever come to being stranded on tiny island. And there is not much to do other than stay within the pastel-colored houses that make up the Bimini Bay Resort (which is evocative of Desperate Housewives and Pleasantville) or venture out to the small town in a golf cart to see a handful of run-down shops and some corroded houses. I am a stickler for getting a local feel of wherever I am, so I knew I needed to explore all that was beyond the Atlantis-like arc announcing the entrance to our resort.

My favorite way to get a local feel is to try the local flavor. If Guy Fieri has his Diners, Drive-Ins & Dives, then I’d like to have my Homey Hole-in-the-Walls worthy of Homage. It’s a passion of mine to try a city’s most well known cuisine. In Marseille, I feasted on bouillabaisse. In Paris, I munched on Nutella-filled crepes. In Barcelona, I ate Iberian ham and Spanish tortilla. In Amsterdam, I devoured poffertjes. In Jamaica, I tasted festival bread and Ting. And in Ireland, I had stews and Guinness.

Another family on Bimini spoke highly of authentic Bimini bread. Needless to say, I was gung-ho about tasting some. So Rach, her parents and I piled into the golf cart and head out in search of Charlie’s Fresh Bread.

We found the hand-painted sign on the outside of a house and cracked concrete steps, which signified we had found just the spot. We parked our cart and walked in. It was like entering someone’s home. We walked by the couches and photos hanging on the wall as we made our way to the kitchen, which lacked air conditioning. It seemed we were trespassing instead of entering a Bimini bakery. 

A sweet and coconuty smell filled the house while easing the damp heat. A man was removing loaves of bread from a single, normal-sized oven in the kitchen. And on what looked like a kitchen table, the man’s wife had more loaves of bread sitting out and cooling. The woman informed us that the regular loaves of Bimini bread are $4 each and the coconut Bimini bread loaves are $5 each. Of course, I had to try both.

Since the loaves aren’t sliced, Rach and I reached in the plastic bags and a broke off hunks of the light and fluffy (almost spongy) white bread. The regular Bimini bread had just a hint of sweetness, but the coconut – my personal favorite, even though I normally hate coconut – was even sweeter.  We bought quite a few loaves of both types of bread to bring home for our friends and ourselves.

Though I wouldn’t suggest going to Bimini if you desire lots of action and tons to do, I would say that it is a great beach-town for a weekend getaway. If you do make it to the island, then trying the coconut Bimini bread is a must.  Be sure to bring some back because they make excellent gifts. And don’t forget to pick up an extra loaf for yourself so you can make some tasty French toast for a breakfast reminiscent of Bimini.