Food and Drink

April 07, 2008

Oh, Onesto...

2395400047_9ee6a828ba_4 So last night (Sunday), Onesto Pizza and Trattoria opened at the corner of Finkman and Macklind. No matter what anyone tells you, this restaurant is NOT in SoHa. It's in Princeton Heights, PrinHigh, if you're sassy. Sassy like a couple of the ladies we went to dinner with last night, who walked there from their PrinHigh house. Not that we SoHa folks don't want to claim the place, because it's destined to be ridiculously successful. We waited for a table for nearly 45 minutes on its inaugural evening, not too shabby for a Sunday night. It's totally non-smoking (Yay!) and according to the SoHa neighborhood listserv, they applied for their 3 a.m. liquor license months ago. Right now, their hours are a little less decadent, but that's okay.

This review is part one of 3, because opening night isn't really the greatest judge of a place. And I'm dying to go back anyway.

Our party of five tasted the following:

House Salad--delicious mixture of fancy spring greens and grape tomatoes + provel, baby!
Salami Roll--delicate, subtle, too small for 5 people! Great preview of the spot-on red sauce.
Red Wine--Il Bastardo, Mmmmm.
Meatball Stromboli--excellent crust, makes delicious leftovers
Lasagna--Frickin huge. Solid. But kinda cold.
Eggplant Parmesan--Frickin huge. Different. Zesty. Also kinda cold.
Fettucini Alfredo--Reasonably portioned! Served with a perfectly cooked egg yolk on top...unfortunately, the Alfredo eater also has an egg allergy.
Tiramasu--direct quote--doubtful claim: "I've had better tiramisu than this once." Incredulous challenge: "Oh yeah, Where???" Sophisticated answer: "Rome!"

We closed the place down with the two squares of tiramisu and five forks, and nobody licked the white chocolate or raspberry sauce (I assume) off the plate, but only because we were all too full.

Overall, our appetizer came 1 minute before our entrees, which were on the cold side, they forgot my salad until after my entree came (but it was free!), our doggie bags got mixed up a little (and I hardly ate my eggplant parmesan so I could warm it up for lunch and enjoy it hot! :(  ) and it took our charming waiter a little while to get our check right, but it was still totally worth the 45 minute wait to get a table (did I mention it was it's FIRST night!) and I believe this summer is going to be a lot of fun.

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March 30, 2008

Shangrila Diner

While I'm uncovering my secret dining places, I guess I'll out Shangrila, too (2201 Cherokee).

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If you're a vegetarian, this place is teh awesome. If you're a vegan, it's still pretty darn good. If you're an omnivore and you're looking for adventure, give it a shot, you might like it. If you're heavy-duty meat eater, this place might piss you off. But they have Creme Brulee French Toast, so don't trash it without a try.

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As soon as you walk in, grab some goofy reading material off the end table near the door. There are always kids books and weird magazines and odds and ends to read. There are also decks of cards, scrabble tiles and whatnot, kind of like the old Mokabe's, before the yupsters took over. This place could be called kitschy, I suppose, but mostly it's just dorky. Kinda like CAMP, but clean. The dishes don't match, the vinyl on the seat benches is held together with duct tape, that sort of thing. BUT the food is hearty, fiber-filled, and it tastes good. Their guacamole is simple and delicious, better than anybody's but mine, and it's served with these thick, multi-grain tortilla chips.

I tried the Nachos Muchachos yesterday (vegetarian chili, cheese, salsa, sour cream and guacamole over tortilla chips). Do yourself a favor: get a side of the thicker chips and use them to eat the stuff. It reminded me of a mexican casserole. Very good, very messy.

Laine had the French toast again. I had a bite, mmmmmmmm. And even though maple syrup is $45 a gallon now, they'll still give you a tiny silver pitcher of the stuff.

For the first time since we started going there over a year ago, we had room for dessert, so we tried the massive Hostess with the Mostess cupcake ($3.00!).

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In the past, I've tried the scrambled tofu (delicious), the veggie burgers (OMG!) and the vegetarian biscuits and gravy (droooool). It's not really on par with the Chicago Diner for vegetarian greasy spoon, but it's like half the price and not 5 hours away, so I think it's the shiznit.

And this place stays open until 10:00 on weeknights, but it's Cherokee, so take your mace and go getcha some.

SOS Su Sala

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Su Sala Mexican Cafe on South Kingshighway doesn't like to brag, but it's kind of a big deal. I've been selfishly sitting on this one, as there's a certain giddy prestige to wandering into a neighborhood restaurant on a whim, at any time of day or evening, and finding the whole place poised to service you, and only you, because you're the only ones there. Ever. But I've noticed people are starting to show up, so I should encourage more, I guess.

We've been cheating on Lily's with this rustic salsa joint near Our Lady of Sorrows for ohh a little over a year and a half. Their food is sparkly with bright-tasting goodness. I've tried the soups and the salsas and the salads one by one, and they're all spot on. Su Sala is where you go when you want to go get your Mexican fix, but you're not interested in lard, white flour, cheese and lard.

Not to say that they don't have a bit of unhealthy Mexican food if you want it: Laine's had the megatron beast, "Mexican Enchiladas," at which the owner teased her and looked on in awe as she tackled the gigantor mountain of enchiladas topped with steak and three eggs, sunny-side-up. And our friend Ann tried the Santa Fe Burrito Friday night, which I likened to the size of a sofa pillow. Their regular enchiladas come covered in a red mole sauce the color of cherry Kool-aid, but are quite delicious.

So go fill some uncomfortable, but ugly chairs at Su Sala so they can afford to buy new ones.

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Outdoor seating is available and I'll put up a review of their margaritas as soon as I get my notes dried off. If you're into fresh veggies and spices and lots of them, *this* is your new favorite place. And, now that they've got a liquor license, walk there. Seriously. Like whoa.

January 20, 2008

Fritanga

We met some friends for lunch today at Fritanga (2208 S. Jefferson). Killer find!

The service was evenly and generously paced and incredibly polite. I don't know if it means I've just gotten used to really rude service, but our waiter seemed hand-picked from a five-star establishment and it was a welcome change.

For an appetizer, we tried the repochetas, a safe choice, since they were essentially corn quesadillas with slaw on top. I got addicted to the radish slaw right off. It's tangy but not too tart, and the radishes offered a subtle peppery flavor that never got old.

Three of us got the taquitos nicas con pollo, safe choice again, but they smelled unbelieveable. On the lunch menu, these come with a pile of red beans and rice, but since the lunch menu is only offered on Monday through Friday, and we didn't notice that. When we saw Santiago's order, we requested them anyway, and Orlando, the owner, gave everyone their beans and rice on the house.

Santiago had gone to Fritanga before and it was his suggestion that got us there for lunch today. He ordered the canoas meduras, or the fried plantain canoe.

Hot, isn't it? His plantain was split and stuffed baked potato style with spiced chicken and mozzarella cheese.

I didn't catch whether they never have handmade items on weekends or if today was a fluke, but they weren't offering any empanadas, which bummed me out. I ordered off the a la carte menu instead. I got the meduras and an order of gallos pintos.

The plantains weren't a bit greasy and so sweet, I kept looking for the powdered sugar.

The food was delicious, the service top notch, but maybe the coolest part was the check. When's the last time you and four of your friends had appetizers and lunch plus drinks this cheap??

June 17, 2007

Chuckie Jesus

When we were initially invited to a birthday party at a pizza buffet slash arcade, I admit, I was a little skeptical. The event was to go down at America's Incredible Pizza Company, Where nothing tops the pizza but the fun! tm. We pulled into the parking lot to hear 50's rock and roll blaring from the outdoor speakers. The place was built into a huge, renovated grocery store. After some confusion at the entrance (If you ever have to go there for a party and you get there later than your friends, be sure to say, "We're with _____(whoever invited you)." Because "We're here with a party" and "We're not sure if our way's already been paid," will get you nowhere. It was like the Open Sesame episode of Bugs Bunny. The wait staff refunded our $30 and got all that straightened out) we met up with our friends in the Family Room (more on that later) and then went to check out the buffet.

There is a bakery section with desserts and ice cream, a pasta section with various shapes of pastas and different sauces (marinara, alfredo, cheese), a salad bar (that even carried iceberg AND romaine lettuces, and even fresh baby spinach!), a baked potato bar, and, of course, several kinds of pizza. I only tried the salad, pizza and a potato, but the food wasn't bad. The pizza was a little reminiscent of Red Baron, but hey, I like Red Baron sometimes. There were massive cinnamon rolls in the bakery section that looked pretty tasty, and various kinds of cookie dough baked on pizza pans and cut into squares. And cherry pie, to boot.

The dining rooms are broken into themes. There's "The Drive In" which was showing a classic Elvis movie on a large projection screen, the "High School Cafeteria," complete with brick walls, a basketball net, and cafeteria style long tables, and then there was "The Family Room." I wish Laine didn't have that weird ethical thing against taking pictures of other people's art taking pictures of strangers' families while they're eating, she corrects me. The walls were hung with brightly colored Dick and Jane type family scenes, moms in aprons, dads in hats, and Spot playing fetch, the whole shebang. The floor could have even been regulation speckled asbestos linoleum. We were sitting at a long table in front of a crackling fake fire in the fire place, with a huge TV playing The Andy Griffith Show above it. The busser was whistling the theme song the whole time we were there. Every once in awhile, the intercom throughout the joint would beep in and some cheerful person would say, "Attention incredible guests! Little Timmy would like to meet his parents at the main registers!" This place was sweet!

It was on my trip all the way back to the front of the place for a soda refill when I saw their  "mission statement" on the wall at the entrance. By this time, I was pretty taken by the joint, so "#1, We choose to manage according to God's principles," didn't scare me nearly so much as it probably should have.

As the evening progressed and we moved to the arcade, it became even more apparent that the Christian business that runs the place is not only bent on changing hearts and minds, they are making a metric buttload of money in the process. The awesome blacklight Route 66 themed indoor mini golf course had, "Jesus Hearts U" painted in black-light sensitive paint across one of the cars. The prize area offered plastic Slinkies in the shape of crosses, the really cool bowling alley played Christian rock concerts and Jump5 videos (if you click on that, make sure your volume's turned down to a reasonable level, they sound like Hanson hopped up on caffeine and the Lord, but man, they're cute, like four Britney Spearses, before she started dating trash, popping out offspring and shaving her head).  I bowled a strike, immediately thanked Jesus, and had the overwhelming urge to get saved. They've also got adult-sized indy car racing and bumper cars, but we didn't try either one of those. I highly recommend the "match the animal noise to the picture of the animal" game, on which, I got a perfect score and 25 tickets for my trouble. Their skeeball is only 0.35 a game, too.

Anyway, it was 200 times better than Dave and Busters, downright charming in the sheer wholesomeness of it all, and with so many of us sinning heathen queer monsters in attendance, the pure wrongness of our hanging out there was a rush I would find hard to recreate any other way. Plus, the idiosyncracies were delicious. Several of the games were essentially based on gambling, the target shooting involved aiming rifles at two cartoony people sitting in a car, there was an Elvis pinball machine that I'm sure hard-core fundamentalists would disapprove of, and the Devil's rock and roll (albeit the Everly Brothers and Frankie Valle and the Four Seasons, but still!) played loudly throughout the establishment. Plus, they're open on Sundays.

All in all, three snaps up in the sign of the cross!

Have some more pictures.

This is the last hole on the course. I did not notice this at the time, but looking at it now, some brilliant sculptor subversively created it as a sand sculpture of an abstract reclining lady and you hit the ball up a ramp into a hole at the junction of the two legs. Dirrrrty!

May 30, 2007

First Friday this Friday

Grand Center's big deal last Friday wasn't much of a big deal, apart from the architectural genius of the newish Centene Center for the arts. But I have high hopes for this Friday's gallery walk, though. The downtown gallery walk's website seems to be on the fritz, so I'll sift through my e-mails to deliver the goods. Let's see...there's free eats and drinks and the "Forces of Nature" show at Art St. Louis, Cheryl Wassenaar and Mel Watkin are still up at Phillip Slein, uhhh... this is really irritating. So few art galleries in the Lou have websites. Laine thinks the abstract show is still up at Ellen Curlee Gallery. 3rd Floor Gallery hasn't been open on a Friday night in months, but I have nothing to indicate that it will be this time, either. Drive Agency is having an opening reception for photographer Mark Schepker and metal sculptor Andre Tourrette. You should stick your head in MacroSun Imports, too. And if you're willing to break from downtown for Soulard, MadArt is bustin' out the wine and cheese for Julie Malone and Justin Visnesky.You could even buy something.

It's the first unofficial Friday of Summer, come have fun with us.

May 16, 2007

what the flip ever

I'm skipping over my backlog of cheerful posts to gripe about my crappy experience at the Coffee Cartel today. I happened by chance to get on Forest Park twenty minutes early this morning on my way to work, so I figured I'd swing onto Euclid and grab a cafe au soylait and a whole wheat bagel as a special treat. It was 8:00 and the place was relatively deserted, but they seemed to be going through a shift change or something, because about six kids were crammed behind the counter. It took ten full minutes to pay for my coffee while the kids bickered at each other, the register jockey casually spewed profanity, and someone totally maimed my stupid $2.00 bagel and apparently breathed on it in lieu of toasting it. I'm all for alternative spaces, obviously, I went in there instead of going to the closer, but completely sterile Bread Co. on the corner of Euclid and FoPa. I'll happily take the piercings, the tattoos, even an occasional rotten attitude (usually more from the patrons than the employees), but this was just chaos on top of stupid. To add injury to insult, in my foul mood from the crappy service, I forgot the step down at the exit and nearly broke my flippin' ankle. I wound up barely getting to work on time. We can do better than this, CWE. Cartel, just 'cause the Bread Co. moved off your block doesn't mean you can get all assy on everybody. Straighten up and fly right. You never know when some self-righteous local blogger will saunter into your establishment and give you a bratty negative write-up.

I've got my eye on y'all.

March 28, 2007

Oh yeah...

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I totally forgot to gripe about this three weeks ago.

We were downtown for an opening at the Ellen Curlee Gallery and we wanted to eat dinner. It was a Friday night. We've been to Kitchen K lots of times and, this is St. Louis, we just don't dress up to eat. Ever. And the host (we think it might have been the owner) met us at the door and mentioned that we might feel more comfortable eating in the bar, since it was more "casual." I totally felt like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. We had money, dammit! And it's not even like we were wearing tube tops and flip flops, yo. And of a hot summer evening, you see that crap in the CWE all over the place. It ain't right, but it's okay. What is it about tube tops and flip flops that makes me envoke Whitney Houston? Wicked.

Anyway, I was incensed, but the food was still great, so I couldn't maintain my self-righteous anger as much as I'd liked. And I guess the sweet potato fries made it worth it to smell like some hipster's cigar by the end of the night. But honestly, I don't want to be seen in the "K Bar" (you have to pronounce the "K" really hard, like K-Hay so nobody thinks you said gay bar. Not that there's anything wrong with that.) any more than y'all don't want my sneaker-wearing fat ass in your restaurant chasing off all your non-existent customers. This downtown belongs to US, the folks who braved Washington BEFORE they put lights in the streets and valet parked the cars. This little "ooh we could be a real city" identity crisis was adorable at first, but now it ain't cute no more, Ray-Ray. Until I can go to any Schnucks in the city limits and not bump into at least three people I know (and were trying to avoid), St. Louis is still gonna be small-town to me.


February 25, 2007

Wuv, Twoo Wuv.

Once upon a time, waaaay back over a week ago, we gathered in the warmly lit, romantic atmosphere of the Royale. We threw back a couple 'weizens and watched as our friends, colleagues and total strangers performed the lyrics to their favorite love ballads and kiss offs. We laughed, we cheered, we plotzed. We nosed our beer, we ran to the potty, and we had a wonderful time.

Believe it or not, people actually showed up!

The highlights:
We cried a little on the inside for Kim H.'s stunning portrayal of Michael Martin Murphy's "Wildfire"

We nosed our beers at Byron's epic interpretation of Jermaine Stewart's "We Don't Have to Take Our Clothes Off."

We giggled profusely at Lynn's charming and adorable performance of Sesame Street's Ernie singing "I Want to Hold Your Ear."

There wasn't a dry seat in the house after Tina's stalker set, which she dedicated to American astronaut Lisa Nowak.

I cried like a little girl with a skinned knee and shit when young David Brinker brought Lynn back for an encore with a duet of Streisand's "You Don't Bring Me Flowers."

I think it was Janet's version of the kicked to the curb anthem "Santeria" that was weirdly synched up with the Ren and Stimpy episode playing in the bar.

So many memories. Who could forget the three dramatic costume changes of "The Vagabond"? Sasha's tribute to Sir Mixalot's "Baby Got Back," or Craig's off-color nailing of Led Zeppelin's "Dina-moe-hum."

But my personal favorite performance of the evening, hands down, was diminutive, blonde-haired Emily, holding her cell phone at arm's length, reading the lyrics to Old Dirty Bastard's, "Baby I Got Your Money." Hey. Dirtay. You did a damned fine job.

To the weird guy who wanted us to look up the lyrics to "Dick in a Box," uhh... And to everyone I didn't mention, it wasn't 'cause you sucked, it was 'cause I had two beers and you know what that does to my memory.

Here, have some pictures:

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February 13, 2007

Happy Valentine's Day!

Front

Meet us tonight at The Royale for a decadent experience not to be matched elsewhere in the city.
You will put on your red dress, favorite bathrobe, lucky drawers, whatev. You will pick out your favorite 90's sentimental pop song, 80's hair band love ballad, 70's kiss-off Gloria Gaynor tune, or whatever pleases you. You will bring the lyrics on a sheet of paper. You will sign up at 7:30 at the Royale (3132 S. Kingshighway), and at 8:00, you will lay down those lyrics like the saddest, most drama-filled, angst-ridden thing you've ever read to an audience.  And they will *love* you for it. It's fun. It's quirky. It's free.

And when you go to work on Thursday morning and that gal who sits in the cube next to you starts shoving her stupid Vermont Teddy Bear in your face, she'll see that gleam in your eye and she'll notice. She'll interrogate you at length, and you can tell her, no, you did not sit home on Valentine's Day crying into a bowl of Cheetos while you watched C.O.P.S., Thank You Very Much! You chose to go out to The Royale to read the lyrics to The Thong Song and that has made all the difference.

That is all.

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Peeps

  • Aaron Belz
    Faux-bo-ho poet, teacher, father, friend. Ties a mean bowtie, holds his liquor.
  • Stefene
    Awesome poet, actor, friend and neighbor.
  • Cheree
    NYC graphic artist relocated to St. Louis. Has popup book about bras. Check out her groovy stationery boutique in the CWE.
  • Carl
    Wash U prof and fascinating poet who blushes adorably when he speaks in public.
  • Daniel & Carmelita
    Painter and Sculptor respectively. Nice, nice, nice. And fun.
  • Eric
    South City printer with sexy, sexy printing presses.
  • Richard Newman
    Soulard poet, teacher, father, friend. His cowboy boots wear him. Sports awesome girlfriend.
  • Deb Douglas
    Paints cats sometimes. Very cool painter. I oversimplify for comedic value.
  • Bertram
    Wash U grad student, poet-philosopher, po-blogger
  • Laine
    Your hostess. The photographer one.
  • Allison
  • Julie
    Your other hostess. The writerly one.
  • STL Jazz Notes

STL Hookup

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