#ideatthat

[dkhwm]

Dinner with Gina. That asparagus bowl is some serious food porn. And worth every dime. Gina had the stuffed cabbage. She stabbed me when I went for it. #inittowinit #foodisall #foodporn #mypeeisgoingtosmell #idontcare #meetmeatthecar #dinerfood #asparagus #foodbowl #ideatthat (at The Dining Car)

[saltycook1es]

Dinner, since I've been eating pizza for three plus days. Props to the roommie for the marinated chicken #salad #ideatthat #chickenplustheunborn

[historic-eureka-inn]

pretty parfaits #onlyinjonesborough #ideatthat #berries

[gastropostvancouver]

From Gastroposter Jeff Grant, via Instagram:

Smoked salmon

[thomasgoode-blog1]

Frita Batidos: Little Havan-Arbor

     A few years ago, I visited Florida for the first time with my boyfriend at the time. We planned on spending Christmas down there and doing a little tour of the sunshine state. While he was interested in seeing the sights and scenes, I had three things on my mind: while I was down there, I wanted to try a real Cuban sandwich, a real Cuban cigar, and a real Cuban.

     While I didn't get to try the latter two, I did eat a yummy Cuban Rueben in Fort Meyers. Ever since then, I was hooked on exploring the pork-laden cuisine that is Cuban food. However, finding such deliciousness in southeastern Michigan can be an arduous journey, seasoned with obstacles and stubborn pallets. I had all but given up on experiencing this evasive Castro cuisine... That was until I discovered Frita Batidos. Now, I can die happy.

     Located in beautiful downtown Ann Arbor, this Cuban inspired eatery offers up signature sandwiches, milk shakes, and even delicious sides. But where did such a delectable Little Havana come from? Where else but from the imagination of Miami-based chef, Eve Aronoff. 

     I am a firm believer that we are a product of our environment. For instance, my mother greatly inspired my country and soul cuisine roots. Chef Aronoff is no different. Her inspirations are indigenous to south Florida, and her creative mind is a product of different cultures from all around the world. She is a seasoned owner and operator of other restaurants, author, former contestant on Top Chef, and ambassador of cuisine to European conferences. It surmises to reason that a resume as impressive as Aronoff's would produce a restaurant that is just as incredible. And I am here to say, Fritas does NOT disappoint. 

     Let's talk Cuban burgers, AKA Fritas. These chorizo sandwiches are offered up with a sunny-side up egg, fries, and a challah-like bun. But if pork isn't your thing (and you’re missing out it’s not), these can be customized with either chicken, beef, fish, or even black beans.

     As far as drinks go, the eatery offers Cuban inspired milkshakes known as Batidos, which come in flavors such as coconut cream, hibiscus, and even passion fruit. Their sides include dishes such as fried plantains, garlic & cilantro fries, and even something called the "best snack ever", which is a blend of black beans, rice, muenster, and salsa. Finally, Aronoff offers up seasonal offerings, such as her version of a pulled pork sandwich, which is what my partner opted for when we visited in late November. Myself? I chose the classic chorizo Frita assembled in a "loco" fashion. This included muenster, slaw, salsa, and avocado. I decided to add on a "Best Side Ever" along with my partners sandwich. The total for these three items? Let's just say that I have purchased iPads for less. However, like any other Apple product, you get what you pay for. Upon waiting, the boyfriend and I admired the chic, almost industrial walls, adorned with egg-shell brick, modest lighting, and Cuban pop playing in the background. They offer communal seating on white picnic tables, which is an up and coming trend in many new restaurants that, personally, I'm not a fan of. We found some stools in the back corner, which were not occupied and helped ourselves to a game of dominoes. 

     After fooling myself into believing that either of us were any good at such a game, the food arrived, and I immediately began to go into a trance. The food was, in a word, in-friggin-credible. As the kids like to say these days, I literally couldn't even. These sloppy meat receptacles were almost a religious experience that transformed my pallet into a whirlwind of dreams and euphoria. I split my sandwich with my better half and he gave me some of his. While they were challenging to eat due to their composure, I was not above using my hands to gather up any and every morsel that could be attained. The side was also savory and glorious. I told the waitstaff that this was some of the best food I had ever had, and their reaction was blasé, as if they hear this comment day in and day out. I would have gladly gone back for more, but I felt like my wallet had had enough strain for one day. 

    After all is said and done, chef Aronoff has hit a home run. Her fusion of Cuban cuisine with an American twist is what dreams are made of. I had yet to find a restaurant, which captivated me and held my interest long after eating there the way Fritas did. The quality of the cuisine offered nearly brought me to tears, but frankly the prices almost did as well. However, if someone were to ask me if I were to eat there again, I could honestly say, "Hell yes! I'd eat that again and again and again..."

[thomasgoode-blog1]

Introductions...

     What is the most memorable moment from your childhood? Seriously, that wasn't rhetorical. Think about it. Got it? Ok good. Now, think about another great youthful memory...I'll wait... Got one? Ok one more time. Dig deep to find a moment from when you were a kid that makes you smile as an adult... All aboard? Great, now ask yourself, other than the age bracket, if any of those memories have anything in common. For me it's a no brainer. Each of those memories (amongst many others) involve the same setting: the kitchen. 

     I can remember rolling out the dough for my mother's chicken and dumplings. I also recall putting the ripples in my father's Mississippi Mud brownies. I can even recollect the first time I made a roux for sausage gravy. Almost every happy memory I can drum up from my early life involves being in the kitchen somehow, and there's good reason for it. 

     I grew up in a rickety house in a town just south of Detroit that is presently famous for being overrun by rats the size of chihuahuas. To say I was part of a poor family would be an understatement. I didn't have much, but one thing I always did have growing up was good food. I mostly credit my mother (and her food passion) for this. 

     My mom was the head chef of Chrysler for nearly 20 years. She also operated out of at least a dozen other restaurants that I can recall. Not to mention (without any formal education) the fact that she served as a menu consultant for several eateries and cafeterias. Now I know what you're thinking: "How cliché. His mother is the best cook he knows. Yea yea join the club." But seriously, her credentials speak for themselves. She is one of the most singularly talented, creative, and innovative chefs I know. In fact, she would often cite the old adage of, "necessity is the mother of invention”, and in doing so, put that saying to good use. For instance, her ability to take a pound of hamburger and old paprika and somehow (through magic no doubt) produce Michelin-worthy goulash never ceased to amaze me. 

     My dad deserves some credit too. He was a baker in the army and a had special talent for making the most delicious cobbler you've ever had. He wasn't there much growing up, but when he was, you either found him watching re-runs of MAS*H or whipping up something sweet in the kitchen.

      My parents always encouraged me to follow my dreams, and it only makes sense that I would want to follow in their footsteps. It was my goal to grow up and be a celebrity chef like the ones I saw on Great Chefs of the World. So, at the age of 13, I took a job at a local rib joint under the table for a year until I could legally be put on the books. I worked there for a few years until I got a break working at a local family restaurant. I started out as head cook during the weeknights until my manager promoted me to chef during the weekend. I would get there at 5AM and prep and cook and peel and sauté and roast and sweat until 3PM. As I recall, I was making 6 something an hour... and I loved every second of it. 

     I took the MEAP test a year early just so that I could qualify to take college credits in high school. When that time came, I ended up enrolling in a nutritional course at a local community college because it was required for all culinary students. After high school, I decided to give my kitchen passion a rest for a while and went to college. Later, I graduated Cum Laude with a degree in physics (minor in mathematics) and decided to work in a pharmacy to pass the time. Ok that's not true. I needed the money, and no one was hiring in my field. Don’t judge me. 

     A few years later, I met a chef named Charles who owned a catering company (where I still help out occasionally). He took me under his wing and gave me a formal education as a mentor (and tormentor). He was a tough, driven, and short-tempered perfectionist (as most chefs are), but at the same time, he was incredibly talented. Before walking into any dish, he had a vision, and any result short of that vision was deemed as unacceptable. He taught (and continues to teach) me the fundamentals of French and Jewish cuisine as well as the basics of other culinary cultures. He helped me earn my knife callouses, and I will forever be grateful for his tutelage. As time went on, the work for the catering company became slower and slower, and I had to find work elsewhere.

      Now that I'm older and wiser, I cook a great deal at home, eat out almost every night, and enjoy food every chance I get. It is one of the most singularly important aspects of my life. Some often say that my love for food borders on obsession, lunacy, and even mania. To which I reply... "Jealous?". I budget for it, sacrifice for it, and now, I'd like to write about it. We could sit and derive some sort of arbitrary grading system that allows us to objectify restaurants and their food, but there are plenty of "star rating" systems out there. Let's face it, if I want stars, I'll go to an astronomer, but if I want a good opinion on a restaurant, I'll ask a fellow fat kid like myself.

      So, please join me. Let's reminisce about our childhood memories and make new ones as adults. My name is Thomas Goode, and together, I'd like us to experience the good, the bad, the vicious, and the delicious. In the end, let’s see if after I'm done, if you can say, "yeah, I'd eat that."