Juicy Loosey Goosey Lucy

A Salesforce conference brought me to the city of Minneapolis this week, and I was expecting a good mix of business and pleasure (as my close college friend Sarah now lives there); I wasn't expecting such an enriching educational experience. I learned about the burger concept "Juicy Lucy," what a "cheese curd" is, and that one can actually sell deep fried SPAM. I left the city a new person; an enlightened one.

Call me sheltered, but I had never heard of a Juicy Lucy prior to my trip. The moment my plane ticket was booked, I texted Sarah about the best burger in the Twin Cities, and she responded with "Juicy Lucy." I assumed she was referring to a dining establishment, not a burger genre. The Juicy Lucy concept - where the cheese is baked into the burger patty rather than placed on top - is common knowledge in Minneapolis and there are about five spots famous for their creations. We chose the Blue Door in St. Paul based on its great word-of-mouth reputation. The place was packed at 8pm on a Monday night. The 30 minute wait was more than worth it - I'd wait hours.

My educational awakening began the moment I laid eyes on the menu: cheese curds, deep fried SPAM, Latin Kisses, the list goes on - and I needed a Midwest native to translate each one. As intrigued as I was by the SPAM, I knew I couldn't go wrong with deep-fried CHEESE. While I could tell the cheese wasn't gourmet, that's beside the point: the hot, fried breading perfectly complemented the chewy white interior. The basket of curds came out piping hot, as if they had spent about 10 seconds between the fryer and my mouth.

Deciding on which burger to try was hard. The Blue Door is special because it offers several variations of the Juicy Lucy. After painful deliberation, Sarah and I opted to try the original Blucy and the more adventurous Bacon Cowboy. The more simple Blucy highlights the advantage of baking the cheese directly into the beef; this was the juciest burger I've ever had. We even ordered the beef cooked to Medium which I think can lead to a dryer patty. It was sensational. Then I tried the Cowboy and I almost forgot about the Blucy entirely. I could only muster expletives in the minutes following my first few bites to describe how I was feeling. Big, thick pieces of bacon exploded from within the patty. Traditional bacon strips can be tricky on top of a burger - often they slide out in one long strip because you can't cut a single bite full with your teeth, or you get a bite that misses the bacon entirely. I often just pull off the bacon and eat it separately. Problem SOLVED. Every bite included the juicy beef, cheese, a few chunks of bacon, and oh - a deep fried onion ring. When it was placed in front of me, I thought it all might be too much. I was wrong. I loved the flaky pieces of fried batter. All the activity inside the burger calls for a very special bun. The Blue Door bun is light but sturdy; it supported the main attraction without distracting from it. Did I mention each burger is $7.00 or less?!

The sides - tater tots and french fries - sealed the deal. Like the cheese curds, the fries and tots came out piping hot and perfectly crisp. The cajun-style tater tots also left a lasting impression with their subtle heat. While I will never be able to remember the name of the burger (Juicy moosey goosey lucy-something-another), I will never ever forget the sensation of it on my taste buds.

This is your world Mike, we're just living in it

Never have I had an experience where the service and the food quality was (were?) so mismatched. Each bite at Michael Mina was dreamy, yet its journey to me was painful and chaotic. Upon reading this San Francisco Chronicle review , I knew I had to make it there fast. Sadly, I know the problems stemmed from the fact that the meal must be eaten at the bar - which has always been my favorite place to eat. Michael Mina's bar staff simply isn't equipped to handle five-course meals and manage the bar patrons.

Let's get the bad part out of the way. As the name implies, the five-course "counter menu" is only served at the bar. The restaurant doesn't take reservations, but Adrienne and I had no trouble finding two seats upon our 4:30pm arrival (ha!) The bar menu consists of about ten different bar bites; our bartender informed us of the specific five that would be part of the tasting menu tonight, plus two surprises. The patron next to us was also trying the menu, and the bartender told us this would be a free sneak-preview for us. Sometime thereafter, another bartender came and told us the five selections would be slightly different that we were initially told. Fine. He also asked if we'd like to make any substitutions. Between Adrienne's lack of interest in foie gras and my determination to taste the tuna tartar, we asked if we could swap foie gras for tuna tartar. He had no problem with this request. I was particularly excited for the kobe beef sliders and the crab pop tart.

Our first dish out was not the same dish our neighbor initially received but the shrimp and pork spring rolls were so delicious I wasn't phased at this point. There were so many courses and confusion that the rest is kind of hazy at this point. The unwanted foie gras came out in all its glory; the kobe beef sliders never appeared; only one pop tart came out instead of two (the biggest bummer of them all); hamachi and tortellini arrived despite it not being on the menu nor ever mentioned; the drool-inducing tuna popper came to our neighbor but never us. The food deliverers appeared bewildered and their lack of English caused even more confusion. Our primary bartender was becoming increasingly agitated by the course. I felt bad for her.

On the plus side, because of all the mayhem, I figure Adrienne and I actually had closer to 7 different plates. Without a doubt, my favorite was the crab pop tart, which is basically warm, buttery crab salad encrusted by warm, butter filo dough; or as I like to say, warm'n'buttery wrapped in some warm'n'buttery. Michael Mina's signature dish, tuna tartar, absolutely met my expectations. It's tossed bar-side with sesame oil, diced pears, and pine nuts. According to our server, the tuna was Grade A fresh from somewhere exotic (Hawaii I think) and it tasted it. Naturally, our two favorite dishes were the two that we had to split!

I typically spot check my memory of the meal with the menu on the restaurant's website. Blogging becomes more difficult when half the dishes aren't even on the menu and I have to rely on poor quality iPhone pictures. Among the "very good but not great dishes:" a lobster tortellini, beef (can't get more descriptive than that), and a fried piece of fish. They fall victim to normalcy; while very good, I've had very similar dishes elsewhere. There was no special touch to separate them from the crowd.

If I were to go back - which I would - I wouldn't even look at the menu and just let the plates fall were they may. I got so caught up in tracking what we'd had versus what was coming and stressing about all the various discrepancies that I forgot to stop and just savor the moment - and there were many.

I ate all my vegetables, Ma! And learned all my colors!

I have a running list of Restaurant To-Do's on my iPhone and Commonwealth has been sitting comfortably at the top for months now. It's been accredited with spurring a "fine dining in casual atmosphere" movement. If you don't feel like reading all of Michael Bauer's review in the Chronicle, I will sum it up for you: "I would sacrifice my left foot to eat at Commonwealth." I agree with his main arguments: food presentation is dramatic, juxtaposition of ingredients is innovative, yet the ambiance feels like an old friend's Tahoe cabin. My jaw dropped as each dish was placed before me, but the actual consumption wasn't quite as exciting.

Brooke and I ended up ordering five dishes to share, which was plenty - if not a bit too much. The problematic part for me is I feel I can speak about all five at once; even on the car ride home, I had trouble differentiating them. The chef obviously has a personal style that influences every dish: fresh, colorful ingredients married together in unlikely combinations. For example, we ordered the asparagus, crushed avocado, nasturtium, olive, chicory root, almond, meyer lemon salad. Setting aside the fact I don't know what anything is past the avocado, I don't know if unusual combinations can carry a dish alone. Sure, kudos for creating such a unique arrangement, but innovation isn't necessarily execution. While I don't think the plates ever missed the mark, I do think too much emphasis was placed on "being original" rather than being freakin' good.

The dishes are so fresh and healthy that I actually felt like I was on a really nice, pre-made diet meal plan. Across all the dishes, I had asparagus, peas, fish, fennel, and swiss chard. This isn't comfort food. The most scandalous component was a thin slice of cheese. Nothing is painfully irresistible where you can't stop yourself from having just one more bite. These are the kind of plates that you eat very slowly to observe the various flavors.

My favorite was a sea urchin mousse (which was nearly tasteless) on top of fresh scrambled eggs and thin toast. It's a beautiful rainbow of colors (see second photo). The eggs I buy at the store must be terrible because every time I have a good quality egg, it just totally blows me away. There were some fresh red peppers and snow peas to give meal nice crunch. No bacon, though. That would have been good. Another mainly vegetable dish had a thin cheese "veil" (their words, not mine) which was a neat touch.

As I approached 18th & Mission, I thought for sure I had the wrong address. It's surrounded by graffiti'd walls, run-down markets, tattoo parlors, etc. The entrance is on the side of the restaurant and is dominated by - presumably - the former tenet's artwork. Commonwealth's sign is small and is missed unless you're really looking for it (see photo). The interior itself is small (maybe 15 tables) and a minimalist decor which made me think they were leaving the main focus on the food. We had an early reservation (5:45) and I was slightly surprised to be the very first person there. The small space never filled up more than half way, which is extremely surprising to me for a Thursday night at a trendy new spot in the Mission. The first sunny evening in awhile, at that.

The Verdict: Go! Prices are totally reasonable ($15/dish), the service is the best I've had in a long time, and the food really is unlike anything you've had - up to you to decide if that's a good thing or not. Go!

Mostly Good Things at Waterbar

Dine About Town is back (does it ever leave? is it even really a novelty any more?) and, at $17.95 prix fix, Waterbar seemed to be the FiDi lunch with the biggest cost savings from the standard menu. I never really know what to expect when ordering off the Dine About Town menu: I've had cases where I feel totally ripped off and other instances where I felt like I would have spent two or three times more if I ordered off the regular menu. Luckily, Waterbar falls much closer to the latter.

I've been to Waterbar a handful of times, and the same thought enters my head each time I walk in: How much did it cost to build this restaurant? When one considers the view (nestled under the Bay Bridge), the enormous fish-filled water tank columns (which are downright pretentious), the size, the decor, etc - this clearly wasn't a job done on the cheap. That being said, it feels like a special occasion spot and there is definitely a time and a place for that... every Friday for lunch with the folks, for example.

For such a seemingly ritzy place, Waterbar has some great daily deals. From 11:30am on, they offer a daily $1 oyster special. Additionally, they have a competitive Happy Hour from 3-6pm ($5 wines, $5 cocktails, $3 featured beers). Since we were three hours early for the drink specials, we settled for the oysters. I've already forgotten where the oysters were from, but they were big and quite tasty. The horse-radish gave them a great kick and woke up my tear ducts.

The Dine About Town menu - asparagus soup to start, Yellowtail Jack fish for the entree - appealed to me as much as anything else on the menu. Both dishes were generously portioned, which is never a given at a fish place and/or on a discounted prix fixe menu. The asparagus soup was fine, but if you blindfolded me, I would have guessed pea soup (really earning credibility as a food blogger, aren't I?). It didn't have that special punch that really good soups have; it lacked a spice or flavor or that special something to distinguish itself. The fish was a very large fillet, but when cut down the middle actually looked like raw chicken. It may not have been suitable for weaker stomachs or a cautious eater. I enjoyed the charred exterior, but like many white fish, felt the interior was pretty bland. The mushroom and potato puree underneath the fish was definitely the highlight.

My dad ordered clam chowder and fish tacos. As you can see from the photo, the tacos are big... Like cheap, Mission Mexican food big. Oftentimes fish tacos at a high-end restaurant consist of a delicate piece of shrimp placed upon a hand-crafted chip - which leaves you running for the snack drawer as soon as you get home. While these weren't cheap per se, I can honestly say you get what you pay for.

Four Years Later...

I’ve lived in my apartment nearly four years now and calculate that I have walked by Florio at least two thousand times just going to and from work alone. If all those buildings didn’t block my awesome view, I could see it from my apartment window. You get the point. Looking for a close, low-key place to have dinner, Adrienne and I settled on Florio.

I love the interior of this restaurant. It actually reminds me of Bix: 1930’s jazz-era throwback. The floor is comprised of black and white tiles, the lighting very low, and the main bar area is the star attraction. There are two wines on tap (one red, one white) and my Sauvignon Blanc was perfect. I opted for two appetizers: the Tomato Bisque soup and a crostini topped with pureed pea and mint. While nothing earth shattering, the soup was very pleasant especially when dipped with the complimentary cheesy baguette. The crostini was a unique combination of pea, mint, and a hint of olive oil. Overall, the meal was very light but still satisfying. That is a very good thing.

Adrienne reported positively about her salmon tartar appetizer and seafood stew. From my vantage point, the stew looked extremely hearty: big chunks of salmon, shrimp, mussels, and clams. Adrienne did say it was too heavy on the saffron, but not enough to ruin the dish.

I don’t think this is a place to go for a fabulous, knock-your-socks-off meal. It IS the place to go for a pre-dinner drink and/or appetizer. You’ll feel so cozy, you may not want to leave.