TGIF

February 4th, 2011 (last visit)

Lake Wylie, SC

Merriam-Webster defines Barbeque(cue) as Noun a: a large animal (as a steer) roasted whole or split over an open fire or a fire in a pit. Hmmm, that doesn't exactly do it for me. b: Barbequed food. Seriously? Verb a: to roast or broil on a rack or revolving spit over or before a source of heat (as hot coals). This one is a little warmer but not quite there. b: to cook in a highly seasoned vinegar sauce. I find about 8 things wrong with that one. 

To truly define Southern Barbeque we have to throw out Noun and Verb altogether, we need to be thinking Technically and Regionally. In my opinion, and backed by my complete lack of authority (though I did, just last week, join the South Carolina Barbeque Association and hope to be a Certified Judge by the end of the summer, at which point this will be both Law and Gospel), the Technical definition of Barbeque is a meat cooked slowly over low, dry heat in the presence of large amounts of smoke. 

More specifically from that definition, we drill into what I think the Regional delineation is, a three-part combination of 1) a meat cooked slowly over low, dry heat in the presence of large amounts for smoke, 2) a sauce that is applied to such meat during and/or after cooking and 3) the method in which that meat is broken down for service. 

Moving deeper through the Barbeque genealogy, the specifics can then differ by State, County, City and even Neighborhood. For me, growing up in the Carolina's meant that the Barbeque paradox began with one word - Pork. To explain the nuances from there would take far more time and words than I am right now able to generate and anyone would be interested in reading in a blog (cue the book deal). 

For that reason, by first post on the enormous subject of Barbeque will take me a bit outside of my region and area of expertise. I want to talk about the best Beef Brisket I have ever had. 

I have only been eating beef brisket, and considering it a form of Barbeque, for the past 7 or 8 years. I was not necessarily avoiding it before that, I just don't think that many places in North and South Carolina served it very often. Generally a Midwestern Barbeque product, brisket comes from the lower front end, or breast, of the cow and is a very well worked muscle. This typically increases flavor, but also leads to meat fibers being very tough. However, this cut also contains a large amount of collagen which, when melted by long slow heat, results in very moist beef. If that meat is thinly sliced against the grain, essentially shortening the meat fibers before even taking the first bite, the combination makes the brisket "seem" to be very tender. There you have it - flavor and tenderness. Its like someone spliced a ribeye and a tenderloin - for about a 1/3 of the price. 

There are a few things that really must be present in order to find true brisket happiness - before anything else is added (read sauce).

First, the bark. The crispy layer of goodness surrounding the outer edge that must be present on a well cooked beef brisket. Those who are most successful in achieving this crust know that the origin of really great (meaning flavourful and dark, but in no way carbon-like) bark is a healthy application of Rub. Even better if your Rub is your own tried and true recipe. (I will leave this point at that. If I continue on the subject of Rub I will quickly amass three to four paragraphs.) 

Second, the smoke ring. This is an important factor with all forms of Barbequed meats, but no less important in brisket. A think pinkish-red ring underneath the bark is like a certificate of authenticity. You know you're getting the real deal. See Technical definition, no smoke flavor from real smoke, no barbeque.

Third, as mentioned before, a thin slice. Now I don’t mean shaved, but no more than a 1/4 of an inch, though I prefer closer an 1/8, otherwise your illusion of tenderness will be revealed for what it is. 

That is the bare minimum, just to enter the race. 

Now, lets skip ahead to the runner who has the lead. I found my favorite beef brisket at the home of my favorite pork Barbeque (but again, my publisher said to save that conversation for my inaugural tome). The Q2U BBQ Pit evolved from the backyard experimentations of friends, to an award winning Husbands/Wives Barbeque Team, on to a successful catering company and finally coming full circle in the form of a great 5-table restaurant just over Lake Wylie, by way of the Buster Boyd Bridge, into South Carolina. After being awarded the title of Grand Champions by the South Carolina Barbeque Association in 2007, the Q2U team of Brian and Linda Rich and Mark and Renee Cieslikowski opened The Pit in 2009 and have since built their restaurant on a foundation of incredibly delicious food. 

Almost every Friday at Q2U beef brisket is the special. This brisket is simply amazing. Like the brisket you see in the food porn on Man vs Food and the like, its juicy, its got a gorgeous layer of bark and a serious smoke ring. Trust me, she’s got the look. But the flavor, the flavor is where this brisket kills all that came into my life before it. Q2U’s own Rub is one of the catalysts that pushes the flavor of their brisket above and beyond. The prefect balance of seasoning, time cooking and, I’m sure, a little bit of love - I promise it will rise to the top of the list of any Barbecue lover with discriminating taste. The best way to order it is to get the Plate. It comes with a bun and enough brisket to stack yourself a pretty good sized sandwich and still have a couple of slices leftover to enjoy by themselves. The best of both worlds. With a squeeze of their own “Thick Sauce,” in keeping with the Midwestern tradition, you’ve got one of the best ‘Que meals* on the planet, especially involving beef brisket. 

Q2U is a place loved and frequented by locals and regulars, but every time I go in I see someone ordering that looks to be picking up the menu for the first time. The cool thing is, I think that both groups leave the place knowing they just dined with friends. 

Q2U BBQ Pit

4052 Charlotte Highway

Suite 105

Lake Wylie, SC 29710

*I left off the fact that, when ordering the plate, you also get two homemade sides and homemade hushpuppies. I did this on purpose. The sides at Q2U, as a team, represent the best tasting, most consistent and innovatively (I know that’s not a real word) original of any restaurant in the greater Charlotte area. I know that is a strong statement to make but I welcome a debate with those who think otherwise. And it is for that reason that I plan to devote an entire post to only the Q2U Sides Lineup in the near future. No need to wait for the book on that one. Stay tuned.

I Love When A Non-Planned Plan Comes Together

February 6th, 2011

Charlotte, NC - My Home

Fads, in my opinion, are typically a bad thing. Movements in music, television and fashion that are followed by very large groups over the last 10 or 20 years have rarely brought about anything truly innovative, creative or even likable. For the past 50 to 60 years the great majority of the fads that involved foods have been detrimental as well. 

Frozen pre-made dinners of the 1950's, originally a great timesaving tool for the working and/or single mother (since most guys, other than professional chefs, at that time were pretty much douches about not cooking), have morphed into over-relied upon vessels of cheap or fabricated ingredients, gargantuan amounts of preservatives and the worst smells encountered by man. Ever been in an office break room with the door closed while 30 people nuke a different flavor of Lean Cuisine? I almost ralphed in someone's block-o-chicken with powdered "gravy" once. It's frat initiation material. 

Mega farms shipping fruits, vegetables and meats to all parts of the country, while a great symbol endless the opportunities attainable by entrepreneurs and intelligent business people in this country, have led to mass outbreaks of illness time and time again. 

The boom of the fast-food industry, who's menu items originally consisted of, at least, real ingredients that were cooked to order, quickly spiraled into millions of people opting to have it their way multiple times a week by scarfing down gray Burgers and compacted Chicken McSplooge with a half-life of 100K years. We've sold our souls in the name of convenience. 

Not forgetting all of the species depleting over-fishing and environmentally devastating over-farming, we've done some pretty bad stuff to the sea creatures of the world because of food fads - you know, outside of the whole regular killing it and eating it part, with which I'm obviously down. 

As with most bad things, however, its not all bad. In the past few years there have been some very good fads to gain traction in the food world. Locally stocked and supported farmer's markets. Small, non-conglomerate beef, pork, lamb and fowl farms. A resurgence in the appreciation of offal, the nasty bits, all of the guts that were previously thrown away or sold for pennies per pound to ethnic markets where their magical qualities are still enjoyed and respected. Farm Fresh Eggs are all the rage and artisan cheeses, cured meats and baked goods are now as common place in large cites as ever. With every bite, every new customer and new appreciator the interest perpetuates. With every new restaurant visit, every dinner party or passed along recipe where a new ingredient or source is shared, promise of continued support for these things is bolstered and they continue to flourish. Take Grateful Growers, a pork and fowl farm local to me in nearby Lincoln County. Their Harvest Moon Grille food truck drove around the city dispensing their dishes comprised of incredible local ingredients to the point that they garnered a huge following. Based on that support they have now opened the Harvest Moon Grille, taking Monticello's vacated space at The Dunhill Hotel in downtown Charlotte. 

One problem that people sometimes note with these new fads are the associated costs. These farms don't have contracts with Super Wal-Marts to pump out their products hundreds of pounds at a time. Their prices are typically higher than those of average grocery items but their quality and flavor differences are exponentially greater so I say you actually get a better bargain, more bang for your buck if you will. 

The best part to me is the variety. Because the old food fads still have a firm hold on the average mega-mart, you have much less of a chance at finding some of those nasty bits I was mentioning earlier. Doing some asking around at your local farmer's market can score you some pretty awesome finds that aren't milling around in the refrigerated case at Harris Teeter. And those parts are still dirt cheap. You just need to know what you are looking for... 

A fan of Anthony Bourdain, I remember watching the episode of A Cook’s Tour, his first show with the Food Network before moving to the Travel Channel to film No Reservations, chronicling his visit to Fergus Henderson's St. John in London. The host, famous for being, well, a slight lunatic, was reverent in Fergus' house, solemn even. This struck me and as I paid closer attention to the food I understood why. This was as basic, simple and honest as it gets. No neon lights, waterfalls or DJ booth. White walls, dark wooden chairs and plates of the most exciting food I'd ever seen. I didn't act on these thoughts immediately, but years later I ordered Henderson's cookbook The Whole Beast: Nose to Tale Eating, and slowly began working through the recipes. There was a bit of a thrill when I went to the butcher shop to ask for a cow's heart and was given an approving nod by the man behind the counter. 

One entry of the cookbook is a recipe for Deviled Kidneys on Toast with a note from Ferguson mentioning that it is “the perfect breakfast on your birthday with a glass of Black Velvet (half Guinness and half Champagne).” So I, of course, sought out fresh lamb’s kidneys for my birthday feast this year. I didn’t have to search far. I had been spending some time recently checking out the website of a farm in, ironically, New London, NC called Windy Hill Farm. Owned by Charles and Dana Burrage, Windy Hill raises pigs, lambs, chicken and cattle. After a simple pre-order on their website, I swung by the Yorkmont Farmers Market on Saturday morning and picked up my kidneys for $2. After walking by Nova’s Bakery’s stall for some mini ciabatta - for that toast portion of the equation, I was well on my way to my birthday breakfast. I awoke the next day with a twinge of excitement not completely unlike Christmas morning. 

The “deviled” aspect of the dish comes from the spiciness of the cayenne pepper that is mixed into the light dredge of flour, mustard powder, salt and pepper. After shaking off the excess dredge, the kidneys are sauteed in a good amount of browned butter and finished with chicken stock and a liberal splash of worcestershire. This liquid, after the kidneys are removed, is reduced to a thick sauce. Both I spooned on top of the warm, crisp ciabatta toast and sprinkled with fresh parsley to distract from the 4 or 5 shades of brown on the plate.

Having only eaten lamb kidneys once, a couple years ago, I was, admittedly, a bit apprehensive of my first bite. While prepping and cleaning the kidneys I picked up a noticeable smell - what is it that kidneys do again? This apprehension quickly turned into big-ass smile as soon as I took my first bite. They were amazing! Very lamby and I mean that in the best way. Full of that deep lamb meatiness with just a slight irony hint in the background. And the sauce was over-the-top awesome. The sweetness of the butter rounded out the sharp edges of the worcestershire very nicely and the chicken stock added a needed body and helped cut the salt just enough. This sauce I plan to use in the future to accompany several different things, not just kidneys such as these. The texture contrast was spot on with the soft, almost creamy kidneys, spreading across the crunchy toast. Washed down with the Black Velvet, I immediately new that this would not be a one-time meal to be checked off of a list. I will spend the rest of my life persuading, coaxing and, if need be, lying to my friends in order to spread the gospel of this recipe. Happy Birthday to Me!

As I was preparing this dish I was tempted many times to augment or “doctor up” the recipe. Adding small flavorings or aromatics to elevate what, on paper, seemed almost too simple. I feel quite certain that had I given in I would have lost something - I would have not noticed one certain aspect of this meal that makes it truly special. While enjoying the meal and realizing that it was so incredible despite containing less than 10 ingredients it hit me that the reason was the impeccable quality of those few ingredients. A lamb that was raised 40 miles away gave its organs and a loaf of truly artisan bread baked less than a 20 minute drive from my house were brought together to make a truly awesome breakfast.

Adding to that - I did not have to go out of my way or spend an exorbitant amount of money to adhere, almost completely, to several current food fads while making this dish. Not the goal when I set out to prepare this, but a pretty cool bonus.

Windy Hill Farms

New London, NC

windyhillfarmnc.com

Nova’s Bakery

Charlotte, NC

novasbakery.com

Medicine Man

January 31st, 2011

Fort Mill, SC

Something greasy…Kahlua and Cocoa Puffs…whatever you had last before going to sleep…water…definitely no water…Bloody Mary…beer and tomato juice…more sleep…Gatorade…V8…Vitamin Water…anything greasy

In the college seasons of ‘00-’01 and ‘01-’02 I spent just about every Friday evening driving from my office in Charlotte to a friend’s apartment in Columbia, SC. We would spend every one of those Friday evenings at bars or parties and, subsequently, every Saturday morning would be spent recovering on his couch. I came upon a culinary combination during this time period that quite possibly saved my life on more than one occasion. I realized one morning that that if I consumed a recently microwaved carton of Cup ‘O’ Noodles while drinking a bottle, not can, of Bud Light I would be cured of all hangover symptoms and be ready for whatever the day had to hold. I’m serious. A 43¢ cup of ramen and a beer that I never drank other than in the morning, as part of this ritual, was better than anything else I’d ever tried. I believed in, and depended on, this for years.  

I went through a phase where a Bojangles’ Cajun Filet Biscuit or a Harold Tindall’s Chili Burger could substitute, as well, I have consumed my fair share of spicy Bloodies and Redneck Benedicts from Seel’s on Sullivan’s Island.* But the noodle/crap beer combo always had the most consistent and immediate results. And I actually like Cup ‘O’ Noodles, so it wasn’t like choking down some strangely concocted cure-all. It was perfection, and, I’m pretty sure, it was blown out of the water by something I had for lunch this week. 

Plaza Fiesta is a mall of sorts in the building of a former outlet mall next to Carowinds at the South Carolina/North Carolina line. It now houses a myriad of South and Central American shops and restaurants. On my first visit to Plaza Fiesta I walked through, trying to decide where to eat, and looked up to see written in bright neon, the word, Cevicheria. 

Punta Galapagos, an Ecuadorian restaurant that has been open for about 3 years, serves typical fare from that country. Wonderful roasted meats, the pork is an absolute favorite, and fried fish, they have daily lunch specials for less than $7 that are so big that a tray is required just to carry everything the mere 10 feet to your table. But on that day Ceviche was my target - and man, right on target they were. Simply “cooked” by the denaturing compounds of acidic citrus juices, ceviches are typically very light and refreshing. Typically thought of as Peruvian in origin, there are several claims that this dish was actually brought to the world by the Ecuadorians. Their signature twist involves a mix of seafood and a shot of ketchup...just stick with me here.

I counted no less than 11 individual ingredients in my small bowl of this Ceviche. The traditional shrimp is joined by firm whitefish, sweet octopus and calamari - the latter are cut into pieces so small that they, when curled from cooking, look like Tic Tacs. All of this incredible, fresh seafood is spooned into a bowl where they add a fresh swirl of mixed citrus juice, fresh tomato, painfully thinly sliced red onion, bright cilantro, minuscule diced green chilies, avocado, hot sauce and, yes, regular ole’ tomato ketchup. I was admittedly very skeptical when I saw that they had just sprayed my very adventurous fish salad with Heinz, but the sweet condiment, when stirred through, imparts a light sweetness that balances out the strong, acidic citrus. 

All of the liquids meld into this spicy, cold brew, known as Leche de Tigre(Tiger’s Milk), that gives you that rush of clarity so needed after accidentally knocking back 8 scotches while hanging out with friends. I don’t know how this works - no clue of the active ingredient. It’s sour and minerally with a slight viscous quality that gives the impression of being substantial and filling. That burn from chilies and the hot sauce not only peak the interest of the taste buds and round out all of the flavors, but the increased sweat production helps to purge the bad decisions of the previous night. I have read that tipping the bowl to your lips after consuming your ceviche is completely acceptable. I have also read in several places that you can add a bit of vodka to your Tiger’s Milk, but that’s what got us here in the first place now isn’t it?

To be honest, I was not feeling the effects of a long night of mingling with friends over my favorite cocktails on this particular day. I’d had a pretty good nights sleep and no alcohol in at least 48 hours. But I tell you this, I will at some point in the future imbibe again and when I do, I will wake up the next morning and venture straightaway to this little oasis of rejuvenation (by this, of course, I mean I will beg my wife to drive me because it will be hard for me to focus and I even less easy multitask).

Punta Galapagos     

3700 Avenue of the Carolinas                           

Fort Mill, SC  29715

*I think that I am about to cry. As I was typing this sentence I jumped over to my favorite search engine to confirm if “Seel’s” was, in fact, possessive and came to discover that this wonderful establishment closed in November of last year, less than 3 months ago. I have many fond memories of this place. Breakfasts or lunches on every visit to the island, this was where my son, the day after taking his first steps in the ocean, dominated a giant pancake (at least in comparison to his 1 year old head) for the first time. They also housed the only Red Bull and Vodka slushy machine I have ever seen. Combine that with their stellar breakfasts such as the aforementioned Rednecks Benedict – consisting of two hot, buttery, open-faced buttermilk biscuits, topped with a fried chicken breast and two sunny-side eggs, smothered it top notch southern white sausage gravy – or the Trash Plate – a mixture of crispy home fries and soft scrambled eggs that were studded with sausage and/or bacon and, of course, drenched in that white gravy – Seel’s  was self-perpetuating. It will be missed and remembered always.

What's In A Name?

January 18th, 2011 (last visit)

Charlotte, NC

In the winter of 2003 I met a pretty awesome girl. I was in my cube at my office and on a heated phone call with a vendor who had massively screwed up a delivery to a customer for which I was currently taking the heat. In an effort to increase my lung capacity, effectively raising the volume with which I could scream at this poor person on the other end of the line, I was actually standing up. It was at this point that my manager walked up, followed by an extremely cute blond with a confident smile, introducing her as a recent interview. The current rant was getting me nowhere and the guy I was connected with was not anywhere near as attractive as this new applicant for our department - so I promptly slammed down the phone and shook the lovely hand of the woman who, two and a half years later, would be my wife. 

A happening somewhere in between these two events is what I would like to discuss. I, certainly being into the whole brevity-thing, would, on occasion in our early courting, attempt to shorten my future bride’s name from Catherine to Cat. It was cute, reminded me of both Michelle Pfeiffer and Halle Berry and required two-less syllables than the original. However, due to the fact that she had known someone in college with this feline moniker for whom she held a true distaste, I was chastised on each attempt. I’m a pretty stubborn person and did not give up easily. I finally surrendered when I was threatened with the permanent loss of physical contact with her altogether. The reason I bring this up is because more and more I notice that we as humans can be easily turned off by all number of things simply because of what they are called. I would address her by the name of someone that she had found intolerable and she would instantly associate the word with bad memories. This person had forever ruined a three letter word in her eyes. An undesirable word does not even have to be connected to a bad memory. I can’t tell you the number of people I know, the majority women, who’s skin crawls at the mention of the word “moist.” I have seen them reduced to full body shivers at the offer of a moist towelette. Simply not liking a connotation or even the sound of a word can completely turn a person off from an otherwise enjoyable food, activity or cleansing device. 

In many instances we try to conceal an ingredient, or dish for that matter, by sanitizing their title, like utilizing it’s foreign translation or flat out making up something new. Ever had Rocky Mountain Oysters? Egg White omelette sounds much more appealing than one consisting of Albumen (this is only used as an example, I find this concept itself a travesty). I have myself realized, and not again repeated, the mistake of offering a friend a luscious bite of Sea Urchin Roe, now opting for the more sexy japanese translation of Uni. Sales of Squid soared in the US when some marketing genius decided to use the plural form of the Italian word for the chewy cephalopods, Calamari.

I realized one day that I truly appreciate the fact that a favorite treat of mine has never met such dilution. Mofongo is a Puerto Rican dish that’s origins can be traced back to Africa. Based on fried and mashed plantains, Mofongo is traditionally studded with chicharrones - crispy pork skin. Thank God for pork skin.  My favorite way is to have it served along side stewed goat. I drench the Mofongo in the rich stew and tender meat before giving everything a good stir up and diving in. The best place I have found in Charlotte is on South Blvd called Punta Cana which is, ironically, a Dominican restaurant. The Dominican Republic does have a variation on the Puerto Rican Mofongo called Mangu, made from mashed green plantains that are first boiled, not fried, but Punta Cana seems very content, and quite skilled at, serving the PR interpretation. It sort of has the texture of a dry stuffing with deep earthly flavors of starchy fruits, garlic and pork. The dense plantain mixture is moistened (cue the aforementioned cringing) by the stewing liquid, which it not-so-much absorbs but carries. You still can distinguish two distinct foods, they just happen to be eaten at the same time. The Stewed Goat is a marvel on its own. Falling apart and sticky with melted collagen its like pot roast times 12. This is a truly delicious combination.

But, being called Mofongo, it is not the easiest of dishes to get people to try  and the fact that I also order mine with Goat probably doesn’t help my cause - but I am stubborn like that. Bringing to mind things that could possibly grow on trees in a very humid climate or even a monster from the deep that lurks in the closest of five year olds after bedtime, Mofongo seems to have a name that only a native Puerto Rican could love. 

But I say,  forget your Boudin Noir and Morcilla, just accept your love of Blood Sausage. Shout out your appreciation for silky Duck Liver, you have no need for the French fuss of Foie Gras!

However, for heaven sakes, canned meat is no Treet to me, no matter how you spell it.

Punta Cana

5230 South Blvd

Charlotte, NC  

p.s. I am aware that the above is completely contradicted by the wide use and acceptance of the term Pork Butt when referring to the shoulder, but that’s a different post.

Southern Exposure

January 17th, 2011 (last visit)

Charlotte, NC

I am a Southerner. I was born in the South, Eastern Tennessee specifically. I was raised in the South, upstate South Carolina. I am, by right of birth, a connoisseur, an expert, a professional appreciator of the cuisine commonly referred to as “Comfort Food.” I was weaned on the kinds of eats that are imitated and re-interpreted in restaurants and homes all over the country, but were created and perfected (at least in their original form) in my region of upbringing. 

Baked Mac n Cheese, Collard Greens cooked with Ham Hocks, Chicken (or what my grandfather was famous for, Ham) n Dumplin’s, Fried Chicken, hell - fried anything. I could fill a book just listing the host of dishes I devoured every Sunday afternoon at my grandparents house, church potlucks and the occasional family reunion. Not to mention the plethora of gravies with which to smother everything on your plate. And the biscuits, oh God the biscuits. That salty, fried, warm, fatty goodness that just always seems to remind people of home, or at least of someones home. 

These were what I first saw cooked. I would sit in my grandpa’s kitchen and watch him, from memory, cook 6 different dishes for 12 or so people and probably not spend more than 15 bucks. That’s the best part and without question why it endured. Good Southern comfort food is by necessity, or at least it was by necessity, inexpensive. The ability to take some of the cheapest cuts of meat, some hearty vegetables and grains and make filling, tasty food enabled generations of rural, poor farmers and mill workers to sustain and raise families. Families who appreciated the fellowship that surrounded that food on those tables. People in the South, of all background, take pride in that. I’m reminded of that court scene in My Cousin Vinny where they talk about how long it takes to cook a grit. That was funny to everyone who watched it; but to the Southerners, it was funny because it was true. 

These foods help shape who I am...which is what brings me to my current quandary. It doesn’t seem to do it for me anymore. Now don’t get me wrong, I still love to debate the rules of what makes the best Mac n Cheese. I see the Bojangles Chicken Biscuit billboard on the side of the interstate and almost drive off of the road. I will pour my heart out to a stranger, preaching the holy healing qualities of a single slice of lightly fried livermush (note to self, write about livermush and save the world). But those days when its cold and grey, when I feel a little under the weather, when I’m just in a bad mood - I no longer drive straight to the Coop for some livers and gizzards or a 1/4 dark “sandwich.” I don’t find the nearest “meat and three” and pile on the country fried steak and a trio of casseroles. And I no longer hit the grocery on the way home from work to grab ingredients for pinto beans and cracklin’ cornbread. These days, and for much longer than Anthony Bourdain has been going on about it, I head directly for the nearest bowl of Phở. A dish born in the North...North Vietnam.

Now before anyone brings it up, even though I am new to this blog thing, I would assume that writing two posts in a row about dishes from Vietnam is pretty much as bad as having two songs back to back on a mixed tape by the same band. But the way I see it, it’s my blog so I’ll do what I want and no one is reading the damned thing but me right now anyway. Also, Soup and sandwich are like Bonnie an Clyde so let’s just look at this as a very brief series on what is quickly becoming, from a food sense, my favorite country in the world.

My love affair with Phở began over 10 years ago in Charlotte at a now closed little restaurant in a strip mall I lovingly used to call the “mall of many nations.” Home to a great indian buffet, mexican mercado and this Phở joint, among others, it is, oddly enough, less than half a mile from my current place of rare beef noodle soup nirvana. At the time I was barely out of high school and very much into food, but mainly for the entertainment value. I had food ADD so unless there was some form of hands on activity I wasn’t hanging around long. I think my favorite restaurant at the time was The Melting Pot if that gives you any kind of insight. Luckily enough, the little plate of garnishes - mint, Thai basil, sliced hot chilies, bean sprouts and limes, that you add to the soup yourself was enough to keep me focused.  What can I say, I was a 19 year old from a small, South Carolina town; I was easily entertained. I went to this restaurant for a few years with group of people that I worked with almost every week. As the years passed and I moved away from Charlotte and then back again I was able to try several new and different Vietnamese restaurants, all serving Phở, but all slightly different from one another. 

I was, thankfully, introduced to my favorite soup shop of all by a good friend and fellow food fiend. Vietnam Grille on South Blvd in Charlotte it the temple of enlightenment. This is my new comfort food fix. Soup is, in and of itself, instantly comforting. Within the first few slurps (that’s how I do it anyway) of hot broth, you are warmed all the way through. Its like getting a bear hug from the inside out...ok, too far. 

But the base of this Phở is not just any broth. This is not some out-of-a-can, mommy-my-nose-is-running, powder-cube in water crap. This is the most rich, unctuous, lip-smakin’...In The Elements of Cooking, Michael Ruhlman quotes author Harold McGee: “We value cream above all for its feel. Creaminess is a remarkable consistency, perfectly balanced between solidity and fluidity, between persistence and evanescence . It’s substantial, yet smooth and seamless. It lingers in the mouth, yet offers no resistance to teeth or tongue, nor becomes mealy or greasy.” Thats what I think about when I taste, no, feel this broth. Screw cream, give me this broth and leave me the hell alone for about 3 hours. 

Ok, Im back. Quality, fresh ingredients that introduce every imaginable texture; soft rice noodles, beef that has been just slightly cooked by the broth, crunch from the onion and bean sprouts; the blend of sour lime, spicy Sriracha chili sauce, pungent fish sauce all added to that wonderfully savory broth to my liking. That is comfort. That can bring be back from the edge. That, when I am not, is what makes me whole again. Nan, Pop, I’m sorry.

Perhaps my upbringing is what has allowed this to happen in the first place? Maybe I became so accustomed to the food of my childhood that it, somehow, became old hat - leaving me susceptible to the calls of a dish from a country very far from my own? 

I was never the one, when growing up, to say “I can’t wait to get out of this town.” As happens often it seems, thats exactly what I did, while most who uttered that statement once a week still live there to this day. But, looking back, I can now see that even in my early years I was, without knowing it, looking past the common cuisine of my heritage. Unconsciously saying, “I can’t wait to try something else. Anything I’ve never seen before. Anything new.” 

Vietnam Grille

5615 South Blvd.

Charlotte, NC  28217

Around the World...

Hi, I'm Brady.

Below you will see the first blog post I have ever written. I have been talking about writing this for more than a year but I had that small problem of constantly making fun of other people for blogging. But, hypocrisy not withstanding, here goes.

A few things about me. I am a married to a wonderful, understanding, patient woman. I am father to a beautiful, awesome, adventurous eating little 2 year old boy. 

I love food. I love the food experience. The challenge of making something laborious or elaborate for the first time. The excitement of trying something new and, especially, something weird. The fun and pride in the moment of serving someone a dish that I have made and seeing that they truly enjoy it.

Im a big Alton Brown fan as well as a fan of quoting movie lines. I mention this as a warning. Should I continue this blog you will most likely notice the influence of both.

I will be 30 years old in Feb of this year, 2011. I plan to drink something older than myself on one the days prior, a whiskey I would imagine, so I will stick to this at least until that point - so that I can write about it. Ironically, that will be about the 30 day mark from this, my first post, and I've heard people say something about if you do something for 30 days then you stick to it - or something like that.

My favorite place on earth, currently, is Sullivan's Island, SC.

As incredibly not-smart as she is, I have a cocker spaniel named Lily that I love very much.

The point of writing this blog, Around the World in a Million Bites, I guess is to show that even within the confines of a region, state or city, it is still possible to discover wonderful food, people and stories from around the globe - no passport necessary.

That reminds me, and those who know me can attest, what I love more than most things is to tell stories...

The Perfect Sandwich

Jan 13, 2011 (first visit)
Greensboro, NC

To define a perfect sandwich is a difficult task. There is no one characteristic that can elevate a sandwich to perfection because, like so many things in life, a sandwich is both wonderfully simple yet drastically complicated at the same time. If there is one constant, however, in the search of the perfect sandwich, it is that the perfect sandwich must be made by someone else. That's just sandwich law. The rest is completely left to individual interpretation. 

My search led me to Banh mi Saigon Sandwiches and Bakery on High Point Rd in Greensboro, NC on an icy day in early January. I had specifically scheduled a sales call in the area because, having read a blog that was written about this restaurant the same month a year earlier, I was dying to sample their crafts. 

Ban mi is located, as I have found so many awesome restaurant finds to be, in a non-discript strip mall that I, for any other reason, would have never entered. This one along bustling High Point Rd that I had passed without noticing countless times. 

You realize immediately upon entering that the owners are strictly there to serve food. No decorations, posters or flamboyant murals on the walls. No mood music droning on in the back ground. A cooler on the right with a mix of American sodas and Asian canned fruit beverages. Straight ahead, the counter where you order is flanked by a refrigerated case holding various pre-made items like sausages, desserts and pickled vegetables, half of which I have never seen before - though I do hope that by my next visit I have built enough courage to buy and try the frozen durian that sat taunting me from inside. The menu on the wall has about ten items. I  take all of this as a good sign, "we don't do much, so we can focus on what we do and make it great." Which is exactly what they do. 

I order the #2, a Banh mi Saigon dac biet (Special Saigon style sandwich). My search was over. I have had this sandwich before, from two separate locations in Charlotte, and always enjoy them very much. But this sandwich, in this restaurant, on this day...

First of all, these things are beautiful. The bright greens and orange against that earthy backdrop. As simple as it sounds, and we have already touched on the simplicity of a sandwich, it just looks delicious. 

As soon as you sit in front of it you breathe in the aroma of fresh cilantro and the jalapeños. 

Every texture imaginable is felt - warm, freshly baked baguette is crispy on the outside yet soft and giving inside. The crunchy vegetables - perfectly twangy pickled carrot and daikon, slightly hot jalapeños, cooling cucumber and a little shaved onion - not overpowering, just in the background somewhere. The lovely, chewy give of the pork roll, vietnamese ham and pate. The “special” mayo adds a creamy, sweet note. 

Thats all 5 senses involved in eating a simple sandwich! Think I left out hearing? I already mentioned the lack of elevator music, leaving just the crunch of the Banh mi Saigon ringing in your ears.

All of the ingredients, all of the flavors compliment each other in a perfect balance. No one is fighting against another. That sounds like a trite, over-stated comment, but its actually true. I believe it was Alton Brown who said that a good sandwich must have “a perfect balance of texture and a perfect balance of flavor.” This sandwich scores a perfect 10 in all categories. 

Lets quickly review, shall we. This sandwich is crunchy, soft, crispy, chewy, sweet, salty, tangy, creamy, spicy, refreshing and layered with OFFAL-LADEN SLICED MEAT! 

And after all of that complicated explanation and description, all I can say its that it was simply the perfect sandwich.

Banh mi Saigon Sandwiches and Bakery 

3808 High Point Rd

Greensboro, NC


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