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.

Turkey day

Turkey day (or in my case, turkey days) sucked all life out of me. Stuffed even fatter than each turkey I engulfed and woosy from celebratory “I’m thankful for…” toasts, writing and blogging was far from my mind. Food comas ensued, parades were watched and catch-up sleep was a must.

Of course, like everyone else, I said thanks for my family (adopted and real), my friends, my health and my happiness, but I also added a few new “thanks” this year. I attended not one, not two, not three, but FOUR Thanksgiving meals, making me realize just how thankful I am for all the love in my life – love for one another and love for food.

Everyone wanted to host and celebrate the day grounded in gobble-gobble goodness. I gladly obliged and reaped the benefits.

Thanksgiving meal #1: Cuban Thanksgiving meal, Aventura, Wednesday night Though I arrived late, even by Latin standards, to meet up with my boyfriend and his family, I nibbled on a few scraps of pulled pork and moist pumpkin muffins, the latter made by my boyfriend’s sister. I washed down my glass of red with café con leche, a bite of birthday cake and flute of champagne for dessert.

Thanksgiving meal #2: Mom’s Thanksgiving feast- half Italian, half American, Plantation, Thursday afternoon My mom and stepdad have friends who live to cook. They enjoy preparing dishes that guests go ga-ga over – the tried-and-true crowd pleasers. Appetizers began at 1 p.m. Spinach dip, artichoke dip, sliced meats and veggie trays competed with “sausage bread,” a take on my stepdad’s special pepperoni-and-cheese pinwheels. Certainly no lack of food.

Usuals – the turkey, the stuffing, the green bean casserole, the cranberry sauce – made their appearances. My plate, however, was taken over by the sweet potato concoction that makes me salivate even six months before Thanksgiving. Like dessert for dinner, the sweet potato mush is cooked with butter, brown sugar and candied nuts on top. Nothing else on the table is worth eating. But just to add some variety to my meal, I opted for a heaping portion of salad with chopped apples and Gorgonzola cheese. Italian-style stuffed artichokes and green peppers were also too good to pass up.

Thanksgiving meal #3: Boyfriend’s family’s intimate dinner – the non-thanksgiving Thanksgiving, Plantation, Thursday night Andrew’s sister, a chef extraordinaire in her own right, doesn’t do the whole “you gotta have turkey on Thanksgiving.” Instead, she prepares a medium-rare rib roast with a perfectly seared outside. Cranberry sauce is spruced with oranges and apples; mashed potatoes are chunky and with the skin, just like I like. While I was too full to take anything more than one bite of each, I was able to enjoy a taste. Andrew, his parents, his sister, her boyfriend and I laughed as even the cat begged for snack.

Thanksgiving meal #4: Daddy’s Thanksgiving extravaganza – Jewish-style, Cooper City, Friday Let me put this out there – my dad is an awesome cook. I called him frantically the week before turkey day begging and pleading for a free-range turkey (I am on a new kick, adamantly supporting free-range and organic items because artificial drugs, pesticides and plumpers disgust me). Without so much as a complaint, he ordered my special turkey from Whole Foods.

Turns out, my turkey prepared by my stepmom was the most moist I have ever eaten. Even its gravy was juicy. In true Jewish tradition, food abounded. As if an entire turkey weren’t enough, sweet spiral ham was served. Full trays of green bean casserole, stuffing, sweet potato casserole and cucumber salad filled the serving table. My dad’s moist pumpkin bread and my grammey’s chocolate-covered, crunchy Chinese noodles had me fingering the dessert tier before dessert was even served.

My immediate family is notorious for too much food. Left-overs were boxed and sent home with guests, and that that couldn’t find a home was frozen for later enjoyment.

Spending time with family (especially my baby brother, home on leave from the Coast Guard Academy) and friends at all my meals made this November even more special. I did, however, somehow manage to miss the pumpkin pie at all my meals.

It’s funny – normally, I hate Thanksgiving, but not this year. Though my family didn’t set aside differences like the pilgrims and the Native Americans did, I was able to celebrate with all those whom I care about. There’s always enough of me to go around…too bad I can’t say the same about all the sweet potatoes I devoured.

East City Grill and Zizzo's

A trick of the trade, from my keyboard to your eyes, is that restaurants that can put a damper on your wallet are just as delicious at lunchtime as they are for dinner. East City Grill in Weston is such a place. If you’re looking to splurge on dinner, this is the place to go, but if you are looking for a yummy meal at a fraction of the cost, you don’t have to look far. East City Grill offers an extensive lunch menu with dishes from the sea (fish and seafood) and the land (poultry, meat and veggies). And for those who crave East City’s elegant, yet hearty dinner meals, a few of the most popular also find their way onto the lunch menu.

At a good-bye meal with my grandparents, my “grammy” and I spilt the champagne poached chicken salad wrap with asparagus and the banana-nut crusted goat cheese salad with a banana-lime vinaigrette. My “papa” ordered another beautiful looking salad (though his was a bit more manly with an entire grilled chicken breast).

The banana-nut-crusted goat cheese ball on my salad was crunchy and warm on the outside, and the gooey, warm center, as smooth as cream cheese, made for a nice pairing. The citrusy dressing was a tad overpowering, but the caramelized banana slices on the side cut the tang. The chicken salad wrap was just a chicken salad wrap, but the bubbly champagne mixed into it added a nice fizzy kick.

While each dish by itself was delicious, I would not recommend ordering the two together as my grandma and I did. The bite from the champagne in the chicken salad was still lingering on my tongue as I took a bite of the salad and had the sharp lime from the vinaigrette snap. Sensory overload.

What’s nice about lunch at pricy dinner locales is that, even at lunch, the staff treats each guest like royalty (how else will they get you to come back for dinner?). The waiters, clad in white aprons, open the doors to great you and say good-bye. The tables are beautifully set and the ambiance is first-class. My grandparents and I enjoyed the fine dining lunch experience.

After lunch we head to Zizzo’s Coffee– a coffee chain that was started in California. Normally, I avoid chains, preferring instead to find one-of-a-kind places. These tend to have better quality food and charismatic atmospheres. But unlike typical coffee chains, Zizzo’s in Weston is one of those places to come in and stay awhile. The dark wood tables and plush leather couches are nothing chain-like at all. The free Wi-Fi is perfect if you have work to do. For those who chose to drink in, the drinks are served in ceramic coffee mugs. And Zizzo’s doesn’t burn their beans. Each cup of coffee is bold, so whether you prefer to take it with sugar or not, you will have a rich cup of joe.

Because I was stuffed from lunch, I couldn’t handle any fun, yet overly filling coffee drinks. A cup of iced coffee with skim milk and Splenda woke me from my food coma and kept me going the rest of the day. The chocolate-dipped mandel bread called to me, but I just couldn’t make any more room in my stomach. The hometown, coffee-bar atmosphere provided just the right mood for my grandparents and I to say our good-byes before I left for school.

KP’s Crumbs: Go to East City Grill for a pleasant, yet not extravagant, high-class lunch. Don’t order the chicken salad wrap and the goat cheese salad together because each of their bold favors deserve to be savored alone.

My end of the date rate the plate: East City Grill is worth of forking. At lunchtime, you get a whole lot of bang for your buck. Zizzo’s is certainly worth slurping up for a morning, afternoon or evening delight.

East City Grill

1800 Bell Tower Lane, Weston, Florida 954.659.3339

Zizzo's

1378 Weston Road, Weston, Florida 954.389.4004

Basilico

Last days of summer jobs are bittersweet. Moving on is natural and exciting; saying goodbye is sad. Though not all of us are fortunate enough to have jobs with people we love or subject matters that pertain to our very specific interests, some of us have just that – bosses who know what we are capable of, who give us work and trust we’ll get it done without micromanaging and who will challenge us even if the tasks don’t require rocket science.

I had always thought that being friends with your boss was a “no-no,” but every summer since I was 15, my boss and I have stayed in touch. Perhaps it helps that she’s young and hip (she dresses better than I do, wearing at least 4-inch heals daily to work, and she looks like she’s 24. As far as I am concerned, she might as well be a model.) She’s more than my boss. She is my friend and someone whom I look up to with utmost most respect for her work ethic, go-get-‘em attitude and poise in everything she does.

For my last day with her, Veronica took me to lunch at Basilico, an Italian restaurant in Miami, which is the ultimate hole-in-the-wall. Situated in a nothing plaza with no more than 20 parking spaces, fighting to get a narrow parking space takes a few minutes, especially at lunchtime. The restaurant itself looks clean with white tablecloths and a wood-topped bar. It attracts families and business folk. But it’s the menu that gives this bistro its unique flair.

Like everything in Miami, nothing is good enough unless it has a Latin twist. Italian and Latin, which both promise flavorful food with a punch, make an unlikely, yet incredible pairing. Though Basilicio’s preparation is relatively simple, the menu offers timeless Italian favorites, the majority of them pasta dishes, each better than the next, making it difficult to decide.

Veronica and I chose to split the linguini al frutti di mare with mussels, octopus, scallops and other seafood tossed in wine marinara sauce. As an appetizer, we split the beef carpaccio with capers, basil and shaved Parmesan cheese. Ordering Italian in Spanish made me chuckle, but the food, fresh and full, was nothing to laugh at. The seafood pasta, perfectly al dente and not at all fishy, was yummy; the beef, sliced so thinly, piqued our appetites.

In true Latin tradition, our meal couldn’t be complete without a mid-afternoon espresso served with a hard dipping cookie. Veronica and I left full and satisfied, ready to finish out our day of work.

Though I’m not the first, I certainly won’t be the last to praise this authentic Italian eatery.

My end of the date rate the plate: For a lunchtime fork, Basilico is top-notch.

Basilico

5879 NW 36th Street, Miami, Florida 305.871.3585

A circus of an event: a second go at Mustard Seed

[Come one, come all. Ladies and gentlemen and children of all ages, Mustard Seed Bistro, if you will.]

Despite my previous bashing of Mustard Seed Bistro, I wasn’t ready to give it up just yet. Its quaint nature still lingering on my mind from my first attempt to dine there was calling to me like the faint memory of a red-and-white big top in the distance. Plus, because it received rave reviews in the Sun-Sentinel, I had to experience the spectacle myself by sinking in my teeth.

I felt like a kid going to see the circus for the first time. I awoke eagerly yesterday morning, knowing that my mom and I were meeting up at Mustard Seed Bistro in Cooper City for lunch. Wanting to beat the inevitable crowd and since we didn’t reserve our seats ahead of time, we arrived at 11:30 a.m. A hearty “hello” from one of the waiters across the restaurant welcomed us, and we seated ourselves at a table for two.

A handsome waiter with a flashy white smile, who looked like a model or entrancing trapeze artist rather than a server, presented us with our playbills – one-sided paper menus. My mom and I decided on two baguette sandwiches: one with grilled chicken, baked Brie, sliced apples and honey mustard; the other with Waldorf chicken salad that our waiter suggested. And we eagerly waited for the show to begin.

As with any good performance, each vignette – in this case, the food – was better than the previous. The warm grilled chicken breast melted the Brie cheese and the apples, making the crunch from the fresh baguette meet a gooey center (not such an easy feat!). The Waldorf chicken salad, with shredded chicken, dried cranberries and pina colada mix, was truly the showstopper and worthy of a round-of-applause. The simple, yet elegant presentation on white, square plates added to the “wow” effect that’s restaurants rarely achieve.

But while the main ring of the three-ring circus gets all the hype, I’m quite attune to the other two, knowing full-well that more often than not, it’s the supporting events that completes the show. While my mom and I could have paid an extra $2.50 for pomme frittes or a salad, we opted not to. Our side dishes instead were surprises, chosen by the ringmaster himself, the chef. Just enough nutmeggy couscous for a taste and a small heaping of chilled and chunked sweet potato salad rounded out our plates.

When our shoulda-been-model of a waiter returned, I questioned him about the ingredients of the delicious couscous and sweet potato medley. He ever so gracefully avoided a plunge into the pit of secrets as he informed me that he had no idea, since the chef has about six sides that he serves with lunch. When I asked how the chef chooses which sides to serve, he simply said that the chef just picks whatever he feels like.

At first, I wasn’t sure how to feel about this. Shouldn’t I, the patron, dictate the show? I’m the one paying, right? But after careful thought, I came to realize that this is how it should be. Why wouldn’t the ringmaster, much more skilled in his own art, be the one to run his own show?

Our waiter, the great performer that he was, also artfully dodged my human canon of other questions. “Can I see a dinner menu” led to a response that they were just cut up into squares. (“Huh?,” I found myself thinking.) Turns out, that once a week the chef prepares a new dinner menu and the old menus are disposed of. Why they would have to be literally cut up? Well to that I have no idea.

Adding to the restaurant menagerie was young woman painting the back wall during eating hours. She reminded me of a dismembered woman. I didn’t know whether to “oooo” and “ahhhh,” or be disgusted that she had paint open while I was eating. On top of her strange presence during lunch hour, I couldn’t fathom why on earth she was painting a circus scene of all things as the focal point of the restaurant. In such a classic bistro, painted in light yellow hues and with lace covering the windows, bright elephants seemed out of place. Nonetheless, the artwork captivated me and watching the artist paint provided entertainment in addition to the plated food.

The other circus guests were quite the sight as well. Businessmen in three-piece suits sat diagonal from sweaty women in yoga cloths (they even brought in their yoga mats! Gross.). These oddballs sat next to fathers with daughters, who sat by snobby women dressed to impress on their lunch date with the girls. By the time my mom had paid the check, people were anxiously awaiting our seats.

Our lunch affair proved to be a circus of an adventure. Delicious? Of course. Confusing? Yep, that too. Completely exciting? Absolutely. It was an all-around feast for the senses that left me longing to runaway to the circus, but only if it tastes as good as Mustard Seed Bistro.

KP's Crumbs: Mustard Seed Bistro also offers breakfast. While I didn't see the breakfast menu, I am sure that the chef must whip together scrumptious dishes. As for dinner, if you plan on going, make a reservation and dress up. The lunch crowd and the dinner crowd are birds of a different color.

My end of the date rate the plate: This bistro is a forking and spooning pleasure. The mystery side dishes keep you on edge, wanting to know which the chef will chose for you to experience. Just go with them, expect the unexpected and you'll be sure to enjoy yourself.

Mustard Seed Bistro

8616 Griffin Road, Cooper City, Florida 954.252.0002

Food a la femme - Mustard Seed Bistro & Vienna Cafe and Bistro

Friday night was mommy-daughter-dinner-date night. Mommy-daughter meals typically mean light ones, beginning with a salad and ending by passing up on the dessert. They involve talks about the future and sharing everything about everyone. Since they don’t occur all that often, I have come to cherish these times.

First stop: My mom and I are both adventurous eaters, so we wanted to try a place that neither of us had been to. My mom had noticed a little place nestled in a Plantation shopping plaza on her way to work and wanted to try it out. We pulled into the parking lot and walked up to Bamboo Noah’s to see what type of place it was. With a name like “Bamboo,” I expected Asian cuisine; but the “Noah” part really threw me off. Turns out, it is a walk-up-to-the-counter, place-your-own-order stir-fry noodle bar, and my mom and I agreed it was probably better suited for lunch.

Second stop: I had been anxiously waiting to try Mustard Seed Bistro in Cooper City. My mom went for lunch and only had rave reviews. It seemed natural that she would want to return and I would be enthusiastic about trying it. With white lace drapes visible through the front glass windows, graceful wine goblets with each place setting and no more than 12 tables in the entire restaurant, I was delighted. Less than half the restaurant was full, and I was excited to have a quiet dinner.

A man, spectacles, apron, and all, haughtily greeted us in the front with an open book in hand. We politely requested a table for two. He informed us, peering at his book, that we could not stay because we didn’t have reservations and they had a full house at 7 p.m. A quick glance at my watch told me it was only 6:30 p.m. We told the maître d’ we could certainly be out in 30 minutes, but he was adamant that dining at Mustard Seed required a good hour and half, especially on Friday and Saturday nights.

He shooed us out the door with business cards in hand, telling us to call in advance next time. I left Mustard Seed Bistro with a bitter taste in my mouth because the staff was unaccommodating and downright seedy.

Yet again, my mom and I left a restaurant and head out in search of another. You know what they say…third time’s the charm. And, luckily, our third stop was just that.

The Vienna Café and Bistro in Cooper City is the true girly-girls haven. It’s my mom’s and my tradition, as we’ve been eating here since I was in middle school. The food is consistently good and they don’t skimp on the portions.

It’s a charming bistro with a scrapbooky, antique-y feel. One-of-a-kind, really. All the crafty salt-and-pepper shakers and tableware are mismatched. Lace covers the tables and fake flowers adorn the ceiling. The warm ambiance is best for whispering across the table and two-people parties of mothers and daughters, sisters or old friends. While having a guy to join you there may be a tricky task, once he is there he is always impressed by the quality of the food. No matter who you chose to bring, though, I’d say you’ve brought too many if you dine with more than four. There aren’t more than 15 tables in this intimate cafe, most of which are for two, and the ones outside are preferred for lunch.

The menu, with cheese and fruit platters, fresh baguettes, spinach quiche and spring mix salads with drizzled dressings, is sophisticated. The coffee bar and wine list only add to splendor. The open kitchen doesn’t have room for more than two chefs, but service isn’t slow. The Vienna Cafe was our perfect choice for dinner.

My mom and I usually go to Vienna Café for lunch. I absolutely love their half tuna sandwich on multigrain bread, cup of Italian wedding soup (my favorite soup ever) and iced coffee. Last night, we were staying away from lunch food and knew we wanted to share. My mom and I are both crab cake obsessed, so it was a no-brainer that we order the lump crab cakes with grilled asparagus and garlic mashed potatoes, served with a house salad to begin.

Worried we would still be hungry, we debated between the seafood crepes, grilled Portobello mushrooms with goat cheese, crepe a la reine and Sonoma wrap for our second dish. We chose the wrap because the house-specialty Sonoma dressing, like a thick, sweet balsamic vinegar, is out of this world. It too was served with a salad to start, so both my mom and I had our own appetizer.

Unlike the Mustard Seed Bistro, the staff at Vienna Café was extremely accommodating. Once our waitress realized that my mom and I were sharing, she offered to have the kitchen spilt both our plates, so that we could each have our own sampler.

After our large house salads, we ate our baked crab cakes that had lumps of shrimp and were served with a mustard dipping sauce. I chose to dip mine in the Sonoma dressing instead. The buttery mashed potatoes were fork-worthy to taste. So by the time my mom and I were ready to eat our wraps – stuffed with crisp lettuce, yellow raisins, crumbly gorgonzola and sweet apple slices – we were too full.

We brought home our wraps to enjoy at a later time, and left after catching up with some old family friends who happened to have been dining there also. No shooing out. No hour-and-a-half minimums. Just delightful food and a cozy atmosphere.

Yep, third time's the charm....and charming.

KP’s Crumbs: Vienna Café and Bistro’s Somona dressing is the best. You can’t go wrong with anything on the menu, but you must add a side of dressing to whatever you get because everything tastes even better when dunked in it.

My end of the date rate the plate: The food at the Vienna Café is worthy of drawn-out, intimate forking and spooning with someone you care about. While the Mustard Seed Bistro might be fork-worthy, I wouldn’t know. The seedy staff was a total turn-off. I guess I'll have to return when I have scheduled fork time to enjoy the hour-and-a-half experience.

Vienna Cafe and Bistro

5724 South Flamingo Road, Cooper City, Florida, 954.680.6599

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

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. 

Tattoo

I don’t believe in tattoos. But that all changed this weekend when my best friend turned 21. 

Perhaps I should backtrack for a moment.

The best way to dine, in my opinion, is tapas style -  getting lots of dishes and just trying a bite or two of each. Some may guess it’s because I spent so long in Spain, but I am certain it’s because I can never get enough. I want to taste and see everything. Normally I can’t afford (literally or figuratively) the opportunity to do this on my own, and typically the portion size in the United States is too large for me to order more than one dish. To make matters worse, the majority of my friends are simply not that adventurous or that hungry to be able to keep up with me.

But for Rachel’s 21^st birthday, she invited 12 of us to Tatu at the Hard Rock Hotel and Casino in Hollywood. Tatu specializes in Asian dishes with Cantonese, Mandarin, Szechwan, Vietnamese and Thai influence, and it provided the ideal occasion to share a whole bunch of different dishes.   

Upon entrance, it’s obvious that Tatu is a dining destination – a mix between a Disney dining experience and that that’s found at upscale South Beach locales. Though the two-story restaurant might seem large, the blue tint and warm lights give it a more intimate feeling and don’t make the sardine-packed tables appear to be on top of one another. Though a bit too noisy from a romantic dinner, Tatu is truly conducive to large groups and special celebrations, with silver beading hanging to section off some tables.

The hostesses were ready to seat our party at 8:30 p.m. (our reservation time) promptly.

To begin with, and in celebrating Rachel’s 21^st, I ordered a lychee-tini made with peach vodka, white cranberry juice and fresh lychee fruit. Rachel ordered a super-sour pomegranate martini with sugar on the outside. And some other friends ordered a scorpion bowl for two, which mixed sweet fruit juices, rum and amaretto served with a flaming Bacardi 151 float in a large pitcher.

Our attentive waiter warned us ahead of time that at Tatu dishes are served when they are ready, not when all the plates are. Normally, I find this disgusting. If I am going to dinner with friends, then I want to eat with my friends, not watch them or have them watch me. As such, I was pleasantly surprised when all our food arrived within 5 minutes of each other.  

For appetizers, our table of 12 ordered firecracker spring rolls with crispy chiken and peanuts, butter lettuce-leaf cups with minced chicken, shitake mushrooms and pine nuts, and tender greens with a miso ginger dressing. All were flavorful and large enough for everyone to have a taste of everything. The best starter, however, and undoubtedly the most fattening, was the crispy crab rangoon. I have always been a fan of crab rangoon, but these were exceptionally wonderful. These cream-cheese-crab-and-scallion-stuffed wontons were small enough to pop into your mouth in one bite. And the warm cream cheese under the fried wontons made the rangoon crunchy, yet soft and surprisingly filling.          

The main dishes ordered included sesame chicken tossed with sesame caramel and chili peppers, charred rare tuna with a vanilla teriyaki glaze and wasabi mashed potatoes, a grilled NY strip steak served with crunchy shoe-string chips and an assortment of fresh sushi. My most favorite dish of all was the one I selected, the Mongolian barbequed duck – perfectly tender and succulent in a tangy sweet plum sauce served to taste (not to drench) with pieces of grilled eggplant and scallion. All the main courses were as large as their price tags and taste did not yield to beautiful presentation. Forks flew as everyone tasted everything.  

The guys and girls alike were stuffed after our eating extravaganza, but I wouldn’t be satisfied until the waiter brought Rach (the Queen!) a piece of dessert with candles and tons of spoons. I secretly selected the chocolate propaganda – with chocolate almond mousse, fudge brownies, chocolate ice cream and fudge sauce – from the dessert menu cleverly entitled “Happy Endings.” The girls gobbled it up.

In keeping with the theme of the restaurant, with the check came gimmicky, yet tasteful press-on tattoos – an adorable concept for children of all ages, not only to remind patrons about the restaurant they just ate at, but also a fun, after-dinner activity. My friends and I took turns using the damp washcloths Tatu provided to wet the Asian-symbol tattoos to our wrists. 

Additionally with the check, our waiter brought over two helium-balloon-sized, sour-apple-flavored cotton candy hunks to complete our feast.

Rachel’s birthday crew then head over to the dueling pianos bar also at the Hard Rock Village to enjoy more drinks and feel-good, sing-along music until the wee hours of the morning.   

All I can say is the yummy food, lively atmosphere and proximity to great nightlife will keep Tatu tattooed on my mind forever. And that’s one tattoo I can handle.  

The NEW Pinkberry: Lutz

In an exceedingly modern world, fro-yo joints and ice cream shops are adapting. Of course there’s nothing quite like homemade, creamy ice cream or twisty soft serve; however, there are innovative, frozen concepts opening the door to novel indulgences. Pinkberry, a frozen yogurt chain in California, New York and Texas, has been tantalizing taste buds for years now with tart yogurt in shops just as modern as the treat it serves.  

My first experience with it was when I was in NYC. It’s all the rage there. Unlike typical frozen yogurt, Pinkberry’s yogurt is not super sweet or overly rich. People eat it for breakfast with cereal on top; people consume it in place of lunch with fresh fruit; others savor it for a healthier dessert. Though my dad says it tastes like a cross between shaving cream and chalk, I would say it’s more of an acquired taste. I’d be bluffing if I said I loved it at first bite. It actually wasn’t until my third cup or so that I really started to appreciate its refreshing, tasty and utterly addicting qualities.

The problem is that just as soon as I began to love Pinkberry, I headed back to Florida only to be robbed of my newfound enjoyment because my home state had nothing like it. Well, not anymore, baby! South Florida is finally - I repeat finally – jumping on the bandwagon and living up to its “exclave of NYC,” “most-northern-part-of-the-South” status.

Pinkberry has arrived in the form of Lutz.

Yesterday night (after much begging), I went to Lutz following dinner. The ultra-modern, colorful plastic tables and chairs, the neoteric gadgets lined up along the wall as decoration and the modish neon lights transported me back to my NYC days.

Lutz boasts the health qualities of yogurt and is proud of the fact that a half-cup is only 80 calories. It offers only two staple flavors – Original and Green Tea – and an assortment of toppings including fresh, bite-sized fruit, cereal, chocolate and mochi. Special for the summer, Lutz also offers pomegranate, blueberry and acai flavors.  

Last night, the line to order (practically out the door) reaffirmed my notion that such a place would do a killing in SoFla. I ordered a small Original with chopped strawberries and bananas. Though normally I’d skimp on the bananas and go for chocolate chips (especially at dessert-time), Lutz was all out. They were also out of fresh raspberries. Nonetheless, and despite the almost $5 price tag for a small, which is practically criminal in these times, my order tasted just like my favorite Pinkberry and made me very happy. 

Copycat or not, Lutz certainly filled my void for a quick, relatively healthy swirled treat. And I’ll certainly be taking a trip back soon. 

Alta Cocina lives up to its namesake

Miami-style dining means skinny white jeans, flowy blouses and large hoop earrings are nightly staples, and eating dinner is more of an event rather than an existence ritual. South Florida, known for its beautiful people and beaches, is also home to world-renowned chefs and modish restaurants. Whether it’s delicious food, exquisite presentation or a trendy atmosphere, most Miami restaurants promise a unique dining experience, hyped by word-of-mouth buzz and buttressed by a hefty price tag. More often than not, however, most places succeed in only one of these characteristics – be it charming atmosphere, stellar food or great service – but rarely will I find a place that can thrive in every aspect.

Alta Cocina – meaning haute cooking in Spanish, or high-class cooking in layman’s terms – was a pleasant surprise. On Sunset Strip, the rather subdued entrance would make the restaurant easy to pass, but it would be a shame to skip a meal here. The owners, a husband-and-wife pair originally from Trinidad and Guatemala, serve “global fusion” cuisine with a Latin flair. The crisp, white tables under the low-key lighting contrast eloquently with the black pillars supporting the restaurant and the abstract, ruddy artwork on the walls. The silverware is heavy; the wine glasses vary in size based on which fine wine you select; and the tweed-like menu is adorned with simple, yet bold metalwork.  The modernesque bottle display, featuring horizontal wine bottles behind the bar, serves as the restaurant’s focal point upon entrance. On a Saturday night, the low murmur of voices does not soil the intimate atmosphere, making Alta Cocina equally ideal for an evening with friends or family or a special someone.

The wait staff is well-versed in the extensive wine list and is eager to help make pairing suggestions based on meal selection. Because every option on the menu sounded tantalizing, Andrew and I asked our waiter, Noah, for some help. (Who else better to ask than someone who knows all the food from personal experience?)    

To begin, we selected the pulled short-ribs served atop seared, melt-in-your-mouth scallops sitting on a dollop of leek confit. Andrew and I split the petit portion, knowing that we each had our own meals coming. Though a bit small, the taste was big, yet not overly creamy and wet our palates for the rest of the meal. I’d return to Alta Cocina for this dish only, but I’d be sure to order the full portion next time and eat it all myself.   

For my main course, I chose the Thai sea bass served with flash fried bok choy in a zippy coconut broth with long-grain white rice on the side, but only under the premise that Andrew would give me a bite of his. He ordered the grilled rack of lamb with wild mushroom risotto and lamb jus for his entrée.

Unlike the appetizer, the meals were filling portions (Andrew even had to take some of his meal home!). My sea bass had a crispy top layer, yet was flaky on the inside and easy to eat. My only complaint was that is was practically drowning in the almost overly empowering spicy, soupy broth. Though the rice helped to cut the zing, I did not want to lose the tasty fish in a mouthful of plain white rice. The bok choy, however, was a light vegetable that complimented the fish without stealing its thunder.

Andrew’s lamb was tender and nearly slid off the bone. Likewise, his risotto was delicious and lived up to our waiter’s proclamation that this entrée is heavy and full, yet delicate. I would certainly order his instead of mine.  

Though for dessert our waiter who had been dead-on with all of his suggestions told us to try the white chocolate raspberry bread pudding, Andrew and I selected the only true chocolate choice on the menu (he knows my chocolate sweet tooth!) – the bittersweet chocolate cake with el ray chocolate sauce and vanilla bean ice cream. Served warm in an upside-down soufflé mound, the moist, uber chocolatey, molten-chocolate-cake-like dessert with cold ice cream was just the sweet I needed to complete my relaxed, hour-and-a-half dining experience.

Alta Cocina, as its name suggests, proved to be high-class in every sense – from the décor and ambience to the food, the waiters and even the other guests.       

You only live once?

Take a walk down Las Olas on a Friday night. Circa 8 p.m. No, really, do. Patios are jam-packed with people waiting for tables – upwards of an hour, have you – and sipping on martinis made with premium liquor. The valet guys can only catch a break from parking Mercedes, Ferraris and Porsches when Hummer limos pull up. And women too old to show so much leg are attempting to keep eyes from their varicose veins by loudly displaying their two, humongous fake additions in dresses that appear too trashy to have cost $250. Men sport toothy, perfectly white smiles as they usher appetizers and drinks to bimbos they’ve never even met. As for an economic crisis, I wouldn’t even believe it. I suppose people would rather spend money on a fancy night out than on their mortgages?

At the culmination of my first official week of work, I felt entitled to a delicious dinner at a trendy hot spot. Missing Barcelona’s late-night scene and my “there’s-always-something-going-on” social life, I needed to escape from a dinner in the confines of my home. Las Olas, with its plethora of expensive, yet usually tasty restaurants, promised not only dinner, but a chic ambiance for a Friday night. I selected YOLO – a restaurant that opened after I left for Spain and nightspot that friend’s raved about.

YOLO (You Only Live Once) had mixed reviews online, but an eclectic menu with main plates ranging from $16 to $35. A call the morning of snagged me reservations at 8:30 p.m. (apparently everyone makes reservations for 7:30 p.m. and 8 p.m.), and my best friend, Andrew, and I arrived early to enjoy a drink on the lounge-style, South-Beach-wannabe patio before our meal. It was here that we played a rousing game of “Who can spot the most fake boobs.” Andrew, naturally inclined as a male, of course, won, but I like to believe this was because I was more intrigued by wads of cash folks were doling out, drink after drink (what about this economic crisis my parents swear we are going through?)

With a name like YOLO, I envisioned oily, bready, creamy foods smothered, covered, sautéed and flambéed in butter and, oh, I dunno, chocolate. I mean, that’s what you’d want to eat at a place that stands for You Only Live Once, right? The one-sided menu was more like that of a high-end wedding reception, with a choice of fish, chicken or beef. I opted for the rotisserie chicken marinated in crushed herbs, served with herb mashed potatoes, and Andrew ordered the New York Strip on special with gilled veggies and the same mash. I must say it was pretty “cool” that the hostess used a rather large stamp to punch the list of specials into our paper tablecloth.

My chicken was good, and the portion size was adequate. Just good and adequate. The potatoes were light and airy. You-only-live-once light and airy…not at all. The atmosphere, trendy and modish, added some needed pizzazz, and the meal overall was enjoyable (but perhaps that’s because I was in great company). So if you can really only live once (and you actually are in an economic crisis), then perhaps you should take a trip over to Jaxon’s Ice Cream Parlor and really enjoy some relatively cheap, worthwhile calories and fat in the form of a kitchen sink.