Road Notes: Things to Learn From Lolita's Iron Chef

You know you're a hot sh** chef when you get a street corner named after you. Or maybe you figure it out when you rack up one of the most dominant Iron Chef win-loss records in Kitchen Stadium. Or when a James Beard Foundation award manifests on the mantle. Or Cooking Channel comes begging for a TV show like the one Cleveland native Michael Symon started just days ago, "Cook Like an Iron Chef."

Point is, the guy is cooking, and therefore bound to provide some inspiration. Yesterday I trickled into the trendy Tremont 'hood in Cleveland to scope what I might learn from his sourdough-like rise at Lolita, the casual bistro brother to his flagship Lola. Here's a mini menu of what I came away with:

1. Hungarian hot peppers are good stuff(ing).

Symon's team packs maximum house pork sausage into these beautiful yellow-green, smokey sweet tubes then gives 'em a heirloom-garlic sauce to sit in. The tips are as hot as any pepper I've seen a restaurant dare to serve. Serious heat. Good for the constitution.

2. People like to see some cheffing. (2b. Simple is sexy.)

The open kitchen here might be the perfect way to stoke a lively dining room. Plus the big oven bangs out creative and rustic pizzas, and entrees like lamb steak, pork chop and roasted chicken that echo Symon's m.o.: No more than several ingredients is necessary as long as they are the best in fresh and essence. The back of the menu has long trumped "farmers and artisans we love," like Indiana's La Querica, who super-selective Carmel Belle swears by for proscuitto and such.

Symon's food is "interesting and satisfying and reliant on good technique," writes Michael Ruhlman in Michael Symon's Live to Cook, "but it the end it was very simple food without pretension or self-conscious chefness."

Like the macaroni ($15)—goat cheese, rosemary and roasted chicken. Nada más needed.

The other pastas hit with similar simplicity: pappardelle with pork ragu, tomato and parmesan, or gnocci with just peas, pancetta, Swiss chard and ricotta salata.

3. Some chic-chic is still OK.

Note the Lolita martini—with Stoli Oranhj, Campari, Gran Marnier and orangecello. Not too sweet, and packing enough punch to make the $11 easier to stomach.

4. People love pizza.

Like Big Sur Bakery's principals once told me, they didn't go to culinary school to cook pizzas, but the pies pay the rent. Symon's of-the-moment included simple featured items—local tomato, anchovy, pork sausage, mushrooms—pulled off perfectly. We went for the organic egg with duck prosciutto ($13). Salty but superior.

The cured meats are also a strength here, including a head-turning "big board" piled with coppas, prosciuttos and sopressata ($18).

5. Get the good stuff.

The wild cojo salmon ($19) seared to succulence—or the side of stewed romano beans with bacon and tomato—teased a theme that you'll hear any chef worth his salt pig touch on at some point. ("If I can get better ingredients than you," Thomas Keller once told the Weekly, "I'm a better chef than you.") The theme bears repeating.

"All food is not created equal," Symon writes. "I repeat: The easiest way to improve your food is to improve the way you shop."

That would be a sign this Cleveland street corner's in good hands.

Road Notes: Cleveland Rocks (Really)

Cleveland is not for the weak of heart.

The bitter sequence their sports fans have known ad nauseum—the last second Browns collapses, the Indians' oopsies and the recent, soul-less evacuation of LeBron James—reads like a recipe for madness.

Some of its streets can feel a little empty, in a misshaped, muggy and mean-mugging kind of way.

Fittingly, then, one of its flagship eateries is a place where compromised arteries need not apply.

At Melt Bar & Grilled (216-226-3699), every sandwich is stacked and grilled and stuffed with cheese and other heart-rattling ingredients—but done so deliciously enough that a table for two necessitated a 45-minute wait.

At 11:30am. On a weekday. (I only heard later that if you get the logo tattooed on your body you get "free cuts.")

Folks flock for items like the Breakfast Burger ($9.50), with two fried eggs, crisp and thick bacon and good old American cheese on still thicker Texas toast.

And the Smokey Russian ($9), piled with smoked turkey, fresh napa vodka kraut as good as it sounds, smoked gouda and Russian dressing. At our barback's behest, we added good crispy bacon too. The Midwest never tasted so good.

The bartender pointed out that the 150-deep beer list is designed to occupy folks as the tiny kitchen takes its time to carefully assemble its super-rich sandwiches—like the Municipal Stadium Magic (locally made brauts, fresh napa vodka kraut, grilled peppers and American cheese, $9) or the Godfather (three cheese lasagna, spicy red sauce, "garlic-spiked" bread with provolone, $11)—made to order.

Other stylish distractions, like the album menus (above) and the slick design elements (below) help make the extensive wait go down easily.

Those are kitchen knives and silverware imbedded in the stained glass.

The stamped metal ceilings and intergalactic light fixtures are also pretty fly.

Walls covered in kitsch also entertain, from local sports totems like a Bernie Kosar picture or evidence of a Guy Fieri visit.

But it's the robust, unapologetic, fattening flavors that pack the place. Take the house favorite called the Big Popper—fresh jalapeños, herb cream cheese, melted cheddar all beer battered and deep fried, with a mixed berry preserve dipping sauce that makes the powdered sugar dusting on top and the savory stuff inside come together surprisingly well. (Looks like that Lake Erie swim to the lighthouse is increasingly mandatory after that sucker.)

In an unmandated exchange for a taste of the Big Popper—"Have you ever shared food with a stranger at a restaurant before?" my Cleveland-living sister (and occasional Weekly contributor) whispered—we even snacked some Parmegeddon ($10), with two potato and cheese pierogi with the napa kraut, grilled onions and never-better cheddar.

The strategy seems to be that in a land where the sports misadventures leave folks feeling empty, the food certainly won't.

Just ask the Man v. Food dude and the Travel Channel team.

Because Another Sudsy Event Doen't Suck

Monterey Plaza Hotel & Spa already enhanced the summer season with its oceanside concert series, which Special Edible nibbled on recently.

They're now upping the ante with a local beer soiree of sorts 2-8pm Saturday, Sept. 11, on the unmatched upper patio overlooking Monterey Bay's humpbacks.

English Ales, Ale Works and Carmel Brewing will pour their tastiest brews for $2 per 4-ounce pour and Schooner's (372-2628) does a la carte brauts, sliders and such.

John Broadway Tucker brings the blues rock-funk tunes 4-8pm.

And, in honor of Sept. 11, all police, firemen and military get all the goods half off.

On Fire

Beaches for bonfires

By Aaron Ely

Beaches that allow fires are becoming few and far between because our predecessors screwed it up and abused the privilege. Protect what we still have by respecting the beach and the authorities who caretake them. After all, much like the person you made out with in the sand, the morning light shows the ugly reality. Trash, broken glass, cigarette butts and sandy underwear tell the tale of a fun night, but are en eyesore to the non-vampires coming to enjoy our “pristine” coast. Remember that it’s a privilege, and one that can easily be revoked unless we do our part.

So first, rules of the beach:

1. Never cover a fire with sand. Let it burn out. Sand insulates, and coals can stay hot for hours, waiting for unsuspecting feet or paws to discover it. This isn’t the forest, leaving an unattended fire on the beach is fine. In fact it may allow the next person to reuse yours.

2. No glass. Cans are lighter, won’t break and pack down easier for hauling away.

3. Have a D.D. Rest assured that you and your vehicles have been noted by the local constabulatory and stand a very high chance of being stopped soon after departure. Nothing screams “DUI” like a carload of youth departing late from the beach.

4. Park Wisely. Carmel and Asilomar have midnight cutoffs, unless you park further away.

5. Pack your trash; don’t burn it or leave it.

6. Don’t forget a flashlight (foraging for wood, finding your lost cell phone…), lighter, a beach blanket or towel.

7. Bring wood. It’s always worth it to scavenge leftover wood from others’ fires, but don’t count on it as your only source, or you could be huddling around a sad little pile of soggy coals instead of dancing around your own bonfire.

Asilomar

If the wind and weather are cooperating, this one’s tough to beat. Hide up in the dunes for a private party, or down on the flats if you’re with the crew. Dogs welcome off-leash south of the creek.

Carmel Beach

Still legal, but for how long? With the 10 p.m. curfew being strictly enforced, expect a friendly visit from Carmel’s finest earlier than you expect.

Casa Verde, Monterey

Enjoy the night-lights of Monterey as seen from Seaside. Spiffy boardwalks, tables, fire rings, port-a-potties and adjacent parking make this a best bet for families or big groups. Park on the inland side of the street to avoid post-sunset tickets.

17 Mile Drive, Pebble Beach

Several locations from Moss Beach to Spyglass drive offer a motley roadside assortment of tables, trash cans, and fire rings just a few meters from 17-Mile Drive (and all the passing rental cars and tour buses). Avoiding the entrance fee can be a fun test of your verbal creativity.

Monastery Beach

At the northern boundary of Point Lobos you can roast your marshmallows just a few meters from one of the steepest offshore drops in North America. Heed the warning signs about the dangerous shorebreak, which has already claimed lives this year.

Honk If You Love Babaloo Cuban Food Truck

What can I say. I wanted Monterey County to be a part of the revolution.

As the booming boutique food truck trend delivered great grub to every big city sidewalk from Atlanta to Albuquerque to L.A.—Argentine meats! Gourmet grilled cheeses! Falafels and waffles!—I’ve been patiently looking for someone local to join the rolling repast, leaving a path of drool in my rearview mirror along the way.

So after a long hungry wait, I say this: God bless Gladys.

In other words, we have our first real foodiemobile merging into traffic. Gladys Parada has survived the unnecessarily arcane gauntlet of state and county inspections to bring her colorful 1986 Chevy P30 Stepvan and its Babaloo Cuban Cuisine to the West End Celebration this weekend.

She’ll take the truck she calls “The Duchess”—after her flamboyant Cuban mother, who is painted on the side—to local businesses and parties thereafter (she has to stick to private property).

While wearing a tropical fruit hat and grilling up sandwiches and chicken, the Caribbean native told me she was drawn to the mobile game after she left a manager position at the former Citronelle.

“I was thinking I have to do something that doesn’t kill me,” she said. “Like a lunch truck. I started reading and everyone was doing it, but not here. I thought, ‘I can’t die without trying.’”
With it she’s bringing a fresh-organic-sustainable attitude—sourcing her ingredients consciously and distributing compostable containers—and some downright tasty stuff with names inspired by I Love Lucy.

As detailed on the chalkboard sides of the truck, The McGillicuddy pictured below (named after Lucille Ricardo’s maiden moniker, $6) comes dynamic and sassy like its namesake, packing grilled organic chicken, melting muenster cheese, gobs of avocado and a tangy citrus salsa between two pieces of crusty Cuban bread baked by Palermo and grilled to order there on the spot.

The Ricky Ricardo ($6, not pictured) is a more macho version with pulled pork, Virginia ham and melted Swiss.

The Fred and Ethel sliders ($6) are two cute little fishcake sliders with tilapia or mahi mahi (from Sea Harvest for now), a clever cream sauce and a tasty tropical island slaw...

…that also accompanies the grilled chicken (above) and “Vitameatavegamin” veggie plates ($8 and $5, respectively, with pedestrian yellow rice and some serviceable beans).

Parada and her sweet wingwoman Lady also slang delicious virgin strawberry mojitos or guava drinks ($2) depending on the day.

Call 262-4150 or hit up bablootruck.com if you’ve got at least 20 hungry monkeys ready to eat.

(The website is worth checking out for the food-porn photos alone—they're as pretty as the custom paint job on the truck.)

When I got the truck to visit the Weekly, it inspired one of the paper’s powers that be to pull me aside for commentary on my career.

“Mark,” he said, “this is the best thing you’ve ever done.”

Oh Heller Yeah

He not only makes memorable wines for Heller (659-6220), he was the only guy at the Monterey County Vitners and Growers' Winemakers Celebration earlier this month to pack along barrel-sampling action.

Good people, I give you winemaking guru Rich Tanguay. (That's him doing mandatory barrel quality control at the winemakers event.)

He's a star of the upcoming grape-stomping harvest party at the glorious Cachaugua grounds. It's coming 1-4pm Saturday, Oct. 16, with delicious al fresco treats from Bahama Billy's, tastes of new releases and all kinds of messy, squooshy, grape-stomping fun. I went last year and may make it an annual pilgrimage.

Here's the quick lowdown from a year ago:

Heaven might be a place called Heller. Or so a tribe of young oenophiles and I discovered at their annual wine stomp held at their pioneering 1,000-acre organic outpost, where the views of the Cachagua Valley are angelic.

Rich Tanguay led a lively tour of the grounds, pouring unfermented grape juice from the catwalk and pausing for word from Rep. Sam Farr (“I took this wine to the White House,” he said, “and told them they should make it their official wine.”). Dozens sloshed, hugged, giggled and jiggled in the grape tubs – there’s no feeling like having cool dark purple skins up to your knees – then rinsed in rose and lavender water before adjourning for some of Heller’s delicious new releases, Bahama Billy’s grub and plucking from a pair of Cachagua Playboys.

Smiles and sunshine blanketed the affair. Cheers to the Hellers for assembling a fun and friendly group as welcoming as the gorgeous grounds.

Estimated price—$25 for members; $30 for nonmember knuckleheads—is a solid deal.

One more heroic bit from RT appears below. He posted it on TwitFace yesterday. I give it a 9.5.

(If it's too small you can click on it and it will appear in a larger window.)

Flavor Phenomena to Flag

Styrofoam getting whacked.

Old Fisherman's Grotto took Best Chowder in Monterey County from our readers this spring; a couple of months back the old Fisherman's Wharf institution claimed the People's Choice at Monterey Wine Festival's Chowder Cook-off. But their greatest recent victory was a decision visible this Saturday: No more little Styrofoam sample cups that will outlive all of us, often breaking down so small that marine life ingests the particles and passes the poison back up the food chain.

Not only does the chowder taste better in the metal vessels; tasters must linger closer to the tempting smells coming from the Grotto kitchen while they slurp, upping the possibility they may be drawn inside for more.

That's what I'm talking about.

Avocado becoming unstoppable.

Chopstix on Fremont (899-2622) now slangs an avocado boba smoothie ($3.75). "Does it taste like drinking guacamole?" one colleague asked.

Not so much, but it does taste authentically avo. And while I certainly like a little honey (and hot sauce) with fresh avocado/tomato/onion/tropical fruit salsa on home-fried tortillas, this drink doesn't interact with the sweet so naturally...let's say it was more interesting than tasty. The cantelope came off superior for $.50 less. Yum.

Sources tell me Bagel Bakery (various locations, including Monterey [372-5242] and Sand City [392-1581]) is also advertising avocado smoothies. And they're adding boba too.

I have glimpsed the future. It's a steady showers of green fruit and gooey tapioca balls.

Pepe acting saucy.

Carmel restauranteur Rich Pepe is doing something cool with his high school buddy Joe Pantoliano of Matrix and Sopranos fame.

As Pepe writes in an e-mail, they've been teaming up for a while.

"Joey, known as Joey Pants and an Emmy Award winning actor, was my original partner in my food ventures over 20 years ago," Pepe says. "But even back in our youth, whether it was delivering newspapers or bussing tables in the high school cafeteria, we like to say we've been in business since the 60s."

Now they're starting a new venture, a response to all the requests Pepe has gotten for sauce recipes over the years. The pair is calling it the "Newman's Own" of pasta sauces—all profits will support No Kidding Me Too, Pantoliano's foundation that brings awareness to mental illness.

Buy the sauces at the Pepe and Pants website.

Here's a recipe with one of the signature sauces.

"Legend has it that Jackie O. ordered Penne alla Vodka whenever she visited Italian restaurants in America and in Europe," the intro reads, "helping make it all the rage in fashion-conscious circles by the mid 70’s. Pepe’s version is to poach large prawns in the heated vodka sauce, then serve over penne and garnish with crispy chopped pancetta and peas creating his famous 'JFK.'"

Penne alla Vodka “Jackie O” Recipe


INGREDIENTS (serves 4-6)
- 1 jar Pèpe & Pants Vodka Sauce
- ½ cup diced pancetta
- ½ cup cooked large peas
- Small bunch of pea sprouts
- Pinch of crushed red pepper (optional)
- Parmesan or Percorino cheese for grating or shaving
- Italian parsley for garnish (chopped or pulled leaves)
- Basil infused olive oil for garnish (or high quality extra-virgin olive oil)
- 1 pound penne pasta (or other cut pasta your choice)
- one shot high quality vodka (optional)
- 1 ½ pounds large prawns (optional to create the “JFK”)

DIRECTIONS:
Heat a large flat bottom sauté pan over medium heat. Sauté pancetta until caramelized and crispy, stirring often. Remove pancetta and hold on side. Pre-cook peas and hold on side. Add 1 jar Pèpe & Pants Vodka Sauce and heat gently on low. If adding additional vodka, add now. Add red pepper flakes if desired. If using prawns, add now and cook gently about 3 minutes.
Cook the pasta in 4 quarts of boiling salted water, approximately 8-10 minutes until firm but not overcooked. Drain lightly and add cooked pasta to sauce pan. Add one half of the crispy pancetta and peas and toss together, coating evenly.

PLATING PROCEDURE:
Place pasta on a large serving platter or individual plates and top with remaining crispy pancetta and peas. Sprinkle on pea sprouts (if you can find them) or parsley, drizzle with basil-infused olive oil and add grated or shaved cheese.

And, by adding prawns and red pepper, you get the "JFK."