Salt

What is in a name? Parents labor over what to call their babe when they are expecting, knowing that often someone’s name shapes who they are. Car companies pick specific names for their automobiles to give them a manly spin or a family-esque flair. And restaurants, eager to lure hungry customers, have the moral obligation to select a catchy or kitschy name, tempting customers before they even walk in the door. The problem comes when a restaurant disguises itself beneath a name either too big or too misleading for its food.

The word “salt” makes me think of many things - you are the salt of the earth, hold the salt, shake your salt shaker and that violent Angelina Jolie “I’m-hot-but-I-can-kill-you” film – none of which I am overly fond of. I associate salt with bland, tasteless food desperately needing something to kick up the flavor. I almost never add salt on top of anything unless I am cooking with it. Nothing about salt particularly amuses or excites me; that is, until I went to Salt.

In a corner row home-turned-bistro, Salt stands as an unassuming eatery with bright green, neon lights hovering over the bar. Despite the Leprechaun-green color exuding from the fixtures, the restaurant is pleasantly charming and intimate. Salt puts a spin on American fare, infusing it with Asian and French accents. To begin, the three-cheese, cheese board with slivers of pear, crispy, candied brioche wafers and a fruity, homemade jam is a delicate, yet hardy start. The young manchego, the strong blue and the smooth goat make a pungent threesome. The duck ragout with potato gnocci and the rock shrimp ceviche sounded like superb starters but save your appetite for the main courses.

The seared tuna with seaweed salad was light and fresh. Because it was served with deep-fried, spicy pot stickers, the meal was just heavy enough and filling. It’s even better with a chilled glass of oaky Chardonnay. The lamb was okay, but not memorable. It was served with string beans and a reduction. All portion sizes were generous, but nothing was left to take home.

So what is in a name? Salt is anything but tasteless and none of the food needs extra spice. No need to hold the salt at all – in fact, holding out would mean denying yourself.

Salt

2127 E. Pratt Street

Baltimore, Maryland

Simply delicious: Vietnamese Cuisine

In what might as well be a row home, Mekong Delta Cafe whips up traditional Vietnamese fare. The menu is adorned with favorites like lemongrass beef over Vermicelli, pho with rare beef, tendons and well-done beef brisket, and, my personal guilty pleasure, spring rolls wrapped in chewy rice paper. When the tables are full, waiting outside is a must, but you can never be sure exactly how long you’ll wait. The smaller the party, the more quickly a table is granted, making two-tops the norm on a Saturday night. The kitchen moves at its own pace, but pleasantly surprises with dishes truly made to order.

This simple restaurant focuses on fantastic pho and doesn’t waste time on frills like decorations – one wall is covered with a child’s artwork (presumably the owner’s). The “welcome-to-our-house” space doesn’t disappoint. Each dish is better than the appetizer preceding it and portion size will leave you with leftovers. The trade off: cash only, but BYOB. Worth it? Definitely. If your looking for the "wow" factor - ambiance, celeb chefs or strong drinks, Mekong Delta is not for you, but when you are craving simple deliciousness, grab a bottle of wine, stop by an ATM and pho-get your sorrows over a bowl of pho.

Mekong Delta Cafe

105 W. Saratoga Street

Baltimore, MD

Artfully Tasty: The Brewer's Art

To some, it’s a dungeon where lights are dim and leaning in to whisper is the only way to talk. To others, like myself, it’s a chaotic bar with limited seating and ordering at the register. And to others, it’s an upscale restaurant. Whatever it is, it’s delicious. Chef Dave Newman artfully scores with his The Brewer’s Art in Mt. Vernon. A brewery in its own right, the bar-turned-eatery brews its own beverages in house. Waiting for tables both at the bar and in the restaurant, happy hour crowds fill the bar at 5:30 p.m., eager to take swigs of aperitifs and special taps. The volume is bustling as people strip off their coats and share stories in this avant-garde, speak-easy-type eatery.

The Brewer’s Art offers food for patrons at all price points. The restaurant serves mouth-watering renditions of duck leg confit, braised lamb shank and baked Kabocha squash ravioli, while the bar conveniently serves bar food. Deciding to have a relaxed, quick bite, my friends and I ordered beer and wine while we waited like hawks for a first-come-first-serve bar table overlooking Charles Street. Annoyed about missing out on braised lamb and ahi tuna, I reluctantly took a menu from a girl working behind the bar. If there is anything I hate more than bar food, it’s ordering at the bar. Here, you do both.

To my surprise, the one-sided bar menu was anything but. Light fare including Miso white tuna tataki, Tuscarora beet and blood orange salad, rosemary garlic fries and curried cauliflower bisque adorned the menu. I couldn’t decide between the roasted pork belly and the mixed greens salad with warm Manchego-stuffed dates and 16-month aged prosciutto. With help from someone working behind the bar, I selected the stuffed dates. The crisp salad, sprinkled with Marcona almonds and balsamic reduction, was blissfully sweet with a tinge of saltiness from the ham. It was a perfect choice paired with the Ken Forrester Petit Chenin Blanc from South Africa. The burger with Vermont sharp cheddar and the Caesar salad, beautifully platted, were equally as tasty.

The Brewer’s Art bar food is well worth the wait for a table and ordering at the bar (EK!) if you don’t feel like splurging for a table in the main dining room. Get there quick – the dishes change seasonally and the date salad won’t be around for long. Oh, and invite me, I’m dying to try the salt roasted Bosc pear salad.

The Brewer's Art

1106 N. Charles Street

Baltimore, MD

The Jewish Table: Noodle Kugel

For my class, Culturally Responsive Education, I am asked to be reflective with the understanding that truly knowing and appreciating one's self is the first step to understanding others. One of our student choice assignments was to create an Objet d'Art, or a cultural artifact, to represent our heritage and cultural identity. Being the lover of food that I am, I chose to write about and make a noodle kugel. My cultural artifact is more a culinary artifact, and my final product, below, begins to scratch the surface of my love affair with food.

Objet d’Art: Culinary Art

The Jewish Table: Noodle Kugel

For as long as I can remember, my father has been making noodle kugel – for holidays, celebrations and even just because I love it so much. Be it break the fast for Yom Kippur, Rosh Hashanah, the sweet new year, Hanukkah, the celebration of lights, or Sukkot, noodle kugel has a guaranteed place at the Packer table. Leftovers (if there are any) are not dished out to relatives, but saved to be eaten for breakfast the next day – “Katie Cakes” gets it all.

As a Jewish young woman, much of my identity stems from my interactions in and around Jewish holidays with my family. Because we aren’t highly religious, my family’s pride in our religion stems from our culture and our tight-knit family, which comes together over the dinner table. Food is the fiber of our family. So excited over pending meals, my mother and grandmother set our Jewish table for the celebration of holidays at least a week in advance. During meals, my grandparents tell stories about our ancestors, inevitably someone bickers and food, which every family member wants to contribute, is abounding. Growing up, I considered myself lucky that the majority of my family lived within a 15-minute drive. Our holiday celebrations during the year include staple dishes like matzo for Passover, honey and apples for Rosh Hashanah, and latkes for Hanukkah, but brisket, chopped liver, matzo ball soup and the kugel are always around.

The word “kugel” means pudding, not like a Jell-O, more like a bread pudding. A noodle kugel done right encompasses many different foods and the relationship between them is difficult to define, which, ironically, is reminiscent of my family. The soaked noodles are intertwined when baked, reminding me of my own family’s closeness and reliance on one another. Of Ashkenazi heritage, kugel recipes are age-old, and my family, from Eastern Europe, makes food in this style.

Noodle kugel never seemed special to me until I began attending Jewish holiday meals with friends. While some parents and grandparents make kugel with raisins and cinnamon, my father makes his with cheese. It’s sweet and dense with a crunchy top and just about the most fattening thing you could consume. Other noodle kugels don’t dare vie with my dad’s, and this is when I realized that my family is different than most. The kugel we rejoice over is unique, just like my family. I am proud to call myself a Packer and identify so intimately with my heritage. My family’s connection with food and my positive memories around the table cultivated such a passion for diverse cuisines that it shaped my collegiate career. I studied journalism and specialized in food writing. Even in my 20s, I still look forward to going home for holidays, knowing that kugel will probably be on the table.

My cultural identity, of course, is not with a kugel. It’s about what the kugel represents – family dinners around oversized tables with folding chairs to fit everyone in. Laughter and love foster joyous mealtimes. Coming together over kugel allows the current empty nests of my family and my relatives to be filled once again to celebrate Jewish holidays as well as our family. It’s a plus that the noodle kugel is out of this world!

NOODLE PUDDING SUPREME

(Dad’s Noodle Kugel)

1 lb broad noodles

4 eggs

1 lb cottage cheese

1 ½ cups sugar

½ lb Velveeta, cut in small pieces

1 ¾ cup milk

1 cup sour cream

1 tsp. Vanilla

¼ cup melted butter

A cinnamon and sugar mix

Grease 11 x 14 pan. Mix first 5 ingredients together plus ¾ cup sugar. Pour into pan. Beat eggs well, add remaining sugar, milk, and vanilla and pour over top of noodle mixture. Sprinkle top with cinnamon and sugar. Bake at 350 degrees for 1 ½ hours.

Just for laughs, my family celebrating in the late 1980's. We still celebrate like this today.

Our table today - so much food we have a buffet.

MexiCAN

With last-minute reservations to Pazo nearly impossible and Peter’s Inn swamped, some visiting friends and I trekked off the beaten path to the dramatically stark, concrete space in the Silo Condominium building, Miguel’s Cocina y Cantina. The space is bumping, the portion size just right and the in-house tortilla chips thick and flakey. Miguel’s Dia de los Muertos, skeleton-inspired décor lends itself nicely to the hip ambiance exuding delicious energy. The juxtaposition of the deeply colorful interior with the contemporary steel structure of the restaurant is just what this cantina represents – old Mexican dishes with a modern flare on flavor.

The open-space restaurant reminds me of the streets of Guadalajara, not Baltimore. The façade of Guadalajara along the inside glances at patrons to create an outside-looking-in feel. The bar, abuzz with happily drunken tequila lovers, served margaritas, tequila shots and other agave favorites, in addition to virginal Jarritos.

The food, just like the gig itself, is an authentic celebration of Mexican culture. Tacos are soft, not hard. There is not a “make-your-own-burrito” option. And don’t even try to ask for a chicken burrito without the spice. Take it or leave it. Hating food too spicy, I munched on beautifully plated, crunchy oveja flautas, filled with shredded lamb, crushed almonds and dried cranberries, giving the otherwise hot lamb a sweet kick. The squash blossom flower quesadilla with grilled zucchini and jack cheese wasn’t huge, but tasty nonetheless. And the pollo huitlacoche, too spicy for me to try, floated atop arroz verde, red chard and mole. It didn’t stand a chance and was devoured quickly. The spicy, green tomatilla salsa and the homemade, smoky mole were a hit with my party. The basket of deep-fried chips and sauces were gone within minutes.

Just like in Mexico, don’t expect anyone, or anything for that matter, to be speedy. The wait staff comes and goes as they please, eventually remembering to fill your glass or bring your food (they did, however, forgot our guac). Even without the chunky avocado, we left sated and satisfied.

If greasy, fast Mexican is what you are looking for, Miguel’s isn’t your place. But if spices – smoky and hot, frozen margaritas and fresh chips are what you are after, Miguel’s can provide your munch…and your hangover.

My end of the date rate the plate: Worth a good forking.

Miguel’s Cocina y Cantina

1200 Steuart Street

Baltimore, MD

443-438-3139

Spring into Sushi

For the first time in a long time, I heard birds chirping. Winter woes wash away with the sun; unpolished toes are making their way from insulated boots to summer-y flip-flops; and finally, the temperature is catching up to the time jump. Spring is here. To celebrate the season of sunshine and fresh beginnings, I craved light, refreshing sushi.

Among the bright lights of Broadway and Fleet, Asahi Sushi in Fells Point, serves fresh fish in a simple setting. The place is bustling on a Friday night with 20-something year olds pounding saki bombs and slurping miso soup. The reasonable prices are at play. In addition to the “hot” menu, a front-back sushi menu accompanied by golf pencils, lists sashimi, riceless rolls, tempura rolls and the more common inside out rolls – volcano roll, dynamite roll and a few more unique rolls to tempt taste buds.

To quell my quaking stomach, I ordered a ginger salad, two rolls and mochi for dessert. The ginger salad, unlike most, was a chopped salad with a tangy ginger dressing. My red and white tuna roll, with buttery white tuna and spicy mayo, begged me to eat it first. I did gladly, without complaint. Without much room left in my stomach, I tackled the salmon-avocado roll, which was nothing extraordinary, but still deliciously fresh. Giving into temptation at the urging of a friend, I ordered the red bean mochi. Its gummy outside filled with tart, yet sweet red bean ice cream made this chilly treat a perfect end to the casual meal.

This no-frills restaurant has the right food at the right price, and they even split checks without you asking. Despite tough street parking on a Friday night, Broadway’s high-restaurant population zone has people moving in and out quickly. Asahi Sushi is not to be missed for fast and fresh sushi. Oh, and it's BYOB...doesn't get better than that!

Asahi Sushi

514 S. Broadway Street

Baltimore, MD

(410) 534-4255

'Bout Time I Boast 'Bout Baltimore

As I make my culinary rounds ‘round Baltimore, I am slowly, but surely acquiring a taste for charm city and its gastronomic offerings. I’ve had my fare share of bland, rushed meals and hyped-up let downs. I’ve even had one particularly awful meal for free! But despite B’more's slow start, I have indulged in some mouth-watering meals and have pinpointed darling date domains, dingy hamburger joints, trendy hot-spots with booze abounding, perfect for girl pow wows and people watching, and of course, a few, unmistakable regular spots that I frequent weekly.

While I haven’t been writing, I’ve shared tapas by cool candlelight at Mezze; split a rack of lamb at Alizee, giggled over gelato and freshly filled cannolis at Vaccaro’s, lounged at Meli while devouring a plate of glazed salmon and found the best Baingan Bharta at Tamber’s, the most unlikely of places for indulgent Indian. I’ve brunched on “She Wore Red Velvet Cake Pancakes” and iced coffee at the famed Miss Shirley’s, sipped sugary sangria at Nacho Mama’s and even relived my love affair with jamon iberico, ceviche and manchego at Pazo. My foodie feast doesn’t end here – along the way I have dined at the in-vogue farm-to-table restaurant, Woodberry Kitchen, slurped garlicky noodles at Suzie’s Soba and toured the Boordy Winery before throwing back some wine and fondue in its 19^th century barn-turned-country-club. Best of all, I grocery shop at Trader Joe’s with my environmentally friendly canvas bag in hand, naturally.

Washington, D.C., Baltimore’s sister city and gastronomic superior, is just about a hop, skip and a jump away. While I don’t visit the Capital often, when I have, my taste buds have been pleased – French restaurants, fresh breads, farmer’s markets and chocolate salons to die for.

My adventure is still beginning with so much to dish on so many dishes. And so, my stomach growls as I say: bon appetite from Baltimore, Hon! I'm back!