Progressive Dinner

Tonight was not going to be a "Dining on a Dime" occasion. But after a (fruitless, as it turned out) trip to Value City, Lisa suggested that we do one of our "progressive dinners." Not as fancy as it sounds, these events are based on the traditional version -- where a group dines at different homes, one course at each home -- but feature a series of restaurants (often fast food, generally lower end). We used to do these as a relatively cheap "date night" -- we'd each be allotted $10, then we'd take turns choosing places to go eat (2 or 3 places each). At each spot, we'd eat just a little something: often we'd share an item. But by the time we were done, we'd be quite full (and often not have spent the full $10).

We've not done this since moving to Cincinnati, until this evening. And we had quite a good time! So, without further ado, our eating adventure in four acts.

Taco Casa
I'd read good things about Taco Casa (located in Hyde Park) on the Cincinnati/Northern Kentucky forum at the Road Food website. Apparently it's a longterm dining spot, with a good reputation. And so Lisa chose it as our first stop. The only seating is outside, so we ate in the vehicle. The menu board doesn't really provide apt descriptions of the food, and we decided to order two items to give it a good trial.

• Small Burrito: Lisa's pick, it was decent sized. Unfortunately, it was quite bland. I thought the meat was better than Taco Bell's, but Lisa disagreed.
• Chicken Soft Taco: This, my choice, was the largest soft taco I've had -- quite full of chicken, cheese, lettuce and tomato. (In fact, while we'd gotten a little plastic cup of hot sauce -- see the picture -- we couldn't figure out a neat way of getting it into our food. So we brought it home.) The chicken was tasty, but quite dry. Overall, though, the soft taco was quite soggy, due to the tomatoes, which were on the very top. Apparently Taco Casa uses canned tomatoes. (Wait, that's not all bad: canned tomatoes are reliably ripe and flavorful. Unfortunately part of the flavor is of the can, but... you win some, you lose some.) The soft taco was okay. Just okay.

Taco Casa is, apparently, best known for their taco salad (which includes ranch dressing), but also for their tuna boat (read about it on a blog run by foodies at The Enquirer). We may drop by to try one of Taco Casa's more unique creations at some future point. But we're not hurrying to do so....

Rating: 6 (1, 2, 3) (What's this?)
Lisa's rating: "Su casa is not mi casa"

J&W Barbecue
It just so happens we'd driven "through town" (rather than getting on I-71 at rush hour's beginning) to get to Value City. And I'd noticed a little barbecue place -- a trailer with windows in the sides, parked next to a little fenced area with a smoker, etc. -- on the way. So with my first choice, off we went! Because of it's trailer-and-lot location, I don't have an address for it. It's located in or near Pleasant Ridge, and the linked map gives you a pretty close address for it -- it's on the east-northeast corner of the intersection of Montgomery and Lawndale. (See my "Dining on a Dime map" -- link in the lefthand column -- for a more precise spotting of it.)

From the somewhat extensive -- for a barbecue joint run out of a trailer -- menu, I chose an order of rib tips and a side of macaroni and cheese. (Explanation: I tried mac-and-cheese at Burbank's Bar-B-Q the other night -- more about which in another post -- and I wanted to compare J&W's.)

• Rib tips: A very generous portion -- a typical square styrofoam takeout container filled with meaty tips over bread and covered with sauce -- of rib tips cost $5.75, quite reasonable. I chose hot sauce (vs. mild), but it was quite mild, and too sweet for our liking. The meat was not as smokey as we'd like either. Right before I got out to go order, I noticed a pile of charcoal bags -- bad sign! -- and the meat had more the flavor of charcoal smoke than of wood smoke (the proper barbecue flavor -- again, more in an upcoming post in which I revisit my opinions of Burbank's, City and Mr. Pig). But for the money, it wasn't bad. (I'm going to add some Arthur Bryant's sauce into the leftovers, which should help 'em a good bit.)
• Macaroni and cheese: A little styrofoam cup cost $1 -- not such a good deal. It wasn't bad. But the other day, Lisa made some mac-and-cheese from a box, then through in some parmesan and shredded cheddar, and hers was quite a bit better. This was just plain ol' pedestrian mac-and-cheese.

Rating: 6 (1, 2, 3)
Lisa's rating: "J&W: jivin' and woeful"

Potbelly Sandwich Works
The only spot not a local joint, the Potbelly Sandwich Works in Rookwood was our next stop. We'd not been to a Potbelly before, and as an un-fan of chains, I feel compelled to comment in general on the place.

First, the menu is nicely limited but diversified: sandwiches, salads, soups, shakes/malts/smoothies. A good enough spread to provide variety without trying to sell everything (which the hamburger chains seem to do these days: McDonald's for iced coffee?! Burger King for fish?! Wendy's for a rootbeer float?!). Even Potbelly's number of sandwiches, soups, etc., is fairly small -- good for 'em! Better to do a few things pretty well than a bunch of things poorly.

Second, the atmosphere is just what you'd expect (at least mostly). Kitschy decorations, deliberately eclectic as if to fake the small-town, local-joint feel (see our fourth stop, below). But some of the touches were nice. The shake/malt/smoothie menu was on a mirror with painted border, an old-fashioned look. And there's a balustraded corner with microphone and chair, presumably for live music (although no one was singing to the largely empty shop during our brief sojourn there). Right inside the door is the iconic piece, a red potbelly stove (with no stovepipe, sadly).

Third, the workers were a bit more lively than typical sandwich-shop folk. The "sandwich artists" at other locations seem to be high-school students, high-school dropouts or beaten-down middle-aged folk who are stuck in a job with no future and who act like they know it. (This isn't a shot at those people -- I feel sorry for them, and I'm glad they at least have that job -- but rather an observation of what this does to the atmosphere.) Those who served us at Potbelly's counter were more chipper, seemed more alert.

Anyway, overall the place didn't bother me as much as many chains do.

• Roast beef sandwich: We split the roast beef sandwich, which comes with provolone cheese. Lisa asked for ours on wheat bread (a bun, actually), and the sandwich -- as, apparently, all Potbelly offerings -- was toasted in one of those conveyor-belt ovens. The sandwich was dressed lightly (hot day -- bad joke!) with a bit of mustard, a bit of mayo and pickles. It was pretty good. Fine. Nothing outstanding, but nothing wrong with it. At $4.19, not too bad a buy, either.

The menu had some nice touches. For a group, you could order a Box o' Sandwiches. Instead of having a trademark symbol next to "Box o' Sandwiches," Potbelly prints the words "NOT TM'd" in superscript. I like that. And the group-ordering options are clever, too, including "Full Belly," "Basic Belly" and more. We just might have to go back -- I want to try that boysenberry shake (or malt) (or smoothie).

Rating: 7 (2, 3, 2)
Lisa's rating: "Belly up to the sandwich bar"

Hitching Post
In my previous comments on Hitching Post, I indicated that we'd have to return sometime to try the pie. With my second choice, and to end our progressive dinner, I did just that. And conveniently, Hitching Post is even located close to the Potbelly shop.

The pie selection varies daily, so you get to hear the day's options from the waitress. Our friendly, cheerful waitress was happy to give us the list, which included coconut cream, banana cream, chocolate cream, German chocolate cream (a combination of chocolate cream and coconut cream), apple, cherry, peach and probably some others. There was also chocolate cake.

With my order of German chocolate cream, a saga began. The waitress inexplicably brought me a piece of chocolate cake (3 layers, with a wonderfully fudgy-looking frosting). I didn't want to be trouble, but I was intrigued by the German chocolate cream, so I asked if there was a mistake. She quickly offered to fix it (I'd not touched the cake yet, after all). That was good. But then she came back: they'd just sold the last of the German chocolate cream to a takeout customer. Arrrrgh! Sigh.

• Chocolate cream: So, I had chocolate cream instead. It was very good. I think perhaps the chocolate pudding layer was cooked pudding, not instant, but I'm not sure it was "real" (from scratch). The whipped cream layer was from a can, but beautifully done and sprinkled with cocoa powder. The crust, clearly homemade, was excellent: while slightly overdone, that went well with the chocolate. A satisfying piece of pie -- for $2.75. (I also had coffee, but... we won't go into that.)
• Coconut cream: Lisa's coconut cream was also quite good. The coconut layer was very firm, firmer than I've normally eaten -- I think testament to the cooked pudding, rather than instant, again. Her canned whipped cream was topped with a bit of toasted coconut. While her crust was done to perfection, she didn't care for its flavor. (Note: Lisa is a pie-crust lover. She likes to eat it plain, or to take raw pie-crust scrap, roll it out, sprinkle it with cinnamon sugar, bake it and eat it that way. So her standard might be a good bit higher than mine.) I noticed particularly the texture of her crust -- it flaked into good, horizontal layers, rather than crumbling. Apparently all the pies cost $2.75 per (generous) slice.

A note on ambiance: While Potbelly has fake kitsch, Hitching Post has real kitsch. The decor runs to roughly framed black-and-white photos of people -- children blowing gum bubbles, etc. -- and cooking utensils (spoons, beaters) fastened to wooden boards. Here, the nostalgia is realer than at Potbelly, because one gets the impression that Hitching Post's decor has "growed" over time, not been imported from a central office where an interior designer has been hired to make the chain's locations look "eclectic" and "hip" and "retro." So Hitching Post gets better ambiance points because it's real.

Rating (just for the pie): 9 (3, 3, 3)
Lisa's rating: "My mom makes really good pies..."

So, we ended our progressive dinner having enjoyed ourselves immensely. Part of the fun is the unknown -- we don't tell each other where we're going next: I just drive to wherever it is and Lisa either drives or tells me where to turn without telling me the destination -- and the "freedom" of not needing to get a real meal at any location. A piece of advice, if you decide to give this idea a try: don't buy drinks! Either take a drink with you -- bottle of water or something -- or get a can of pop from a can or a fountain drink at a gas station. Beverages, especially at fast food spots, are too overpriced (and this is especially true if you do the $20 for 2 people version).

Laszlo's Iron Skillet

Should you eat at a restaurant if you can't pronounce its name? Hmm?

Well, we still don't know how to pronounce Laszlo's Iron Skillet (located in Newtown), but eat there we did (a couple of months ago -- I've been lazy in posting). I'd tried a cabbage roll (delicious!) and (real) goulash over spatzle (pictured) at Laszlo's booth at Taste of Cincinnati 2007. While the goulash was a bit bland, the food was good enough to warrant a visit to the actual restaurant. Especially after Polly Campbell's good review. And especially-er after buying myself a cheap "gift certificate" from Restaurant.com. (Hint: Join Restaurant.com and you'll get nearly weekly offers to buy a $25 gift certificate for $5, or less -- of course they have catches, such as requiring you to spend $35, but it's still a good deal.)

So we went. It's a ways away, but along a drive I consider very pleasant, from Mt. Auburn to Eastgate via Columbia Parkway, rather than using the interstate. (It's slower, yes -- but you drive through Columbia Tusculum and Mariemont, past an old Roy Rogers burger joint -- you get to see some city, not just interstate pavement and painted lines.)

Our impression might have been somewhat detrimentally affected by some background noise coming from a near-at-hand source (yes, Elliott). But that was probably no more problematic than the sloooooooooooooow service. And the somewhat inattentive service. (There was one elderly waitress, whose demeanor seemed downright hostile, who seemed to be queen: her customers got their food very quickly. Maybe they all ordered quick-to-cook items. Maybe.)

But the food was pretty good.

• Tomato Basil Pasta with Chicken: Lisa's dish, this was plentiful and quite good. And to appreciate this, you have to know that Lisa doesn't like tomatoes. Doesn't really care about basil, either. (So why did she order this? I'm not sure....) It was a satisfactory dish, and she thought the chicken especially tasty. Lisa had a plain ol' salad with her pasta (included in the price).


• Sauerbraten: I've had sauerbraten once before, at a restaurant in the Amana Colonies in Iowa. (Interesting place: they've turned their Anabaptist-sect heritage into a tourism business by rejecting their religious and social foundation but dressing up and selling nostalgic items.) In Iowa, the sauerbraten was heavenly: sweet-spicy(as-in-spices-not-as-in-hot-peppers)-sour beef, tender as I've ever had beef, in a wonderful gravy. At Laszlo's... well, it didn't quite measure up, but it was pretty good. A bit too fatty and not as tender as I'd like. The potato pancake it came with was very good indeed. The red cabbage was exquisite (if you like central European treatments of cabbage, which often seem to involve grease and vinegar -- I like 'em). And then, for my salad, I had hot slaw. Delicious! Again, cabbage with grease (bacon, I suspect) and vinegar -- wonderful! (Yes, that's right: in a single meal, I had regular cabbage with grease/vinegar and red cabbage with grease/vinegar. Hey, I don't get it very often!)


• Gundel Crepes: We had to try this one -- crepes filled with a walnut filling and covered with a chocolate sauce and powdered sugar. So the chocolate sauces tasted rather like Hershey's -- so what? The walnut filling was possibly worth committing a crime for.

Overall... Laszlo's was. We might go back, if we buy another gift certificate. But we're not itchin' to go as soon as we can.

Rating: 10 (3, 4, 3) (What's this?)
Lisa's rating: I can think of other uses for that skillet...

Greenup Cafe

One of the books I read to Elliott before bed last night was Smokey's Fire Engine by Richard Scarry. In the book, Smokey (a pig) is a firefigher in Busytown, along with a few other pigs and a mouse. Each of the firefighters has a job around the firehouse (Smokey's is cleaning the fire engine). Well, one firefighter (a pig namd Squirty) makes "firefigher soup" for them all, and in the book all the firefighters sit down to eat bowls (only to be interrupted by an alarm, of course). In the book, after announcing they were going to eat, the narrator says, "Bon appetit everyone!" Well, this French phrase applies well to this blog entry. And, actually, reading to Elliott is sort of related as well. . . .

About a year ago, Cincinnati's star French chef, Jean-Robert de Cavel, opened Greenup Café in Covington, described on its website as both a "French bohémien place" and as a "French country cafe" in style. Initially, Greenup opened as coffeehouse and pastry shop, with pastries made by Jean-Philippe Solnom who, it was reported in local papers at the time, studied pastry for 7 years and chocolate for 7 years in Europe. It sounded like my kind of place, so a colleague (thanks, Chris!) and I stopped by in its first week.

Since then, we've been several times, always for pastries and coffee, usually taking them to go. But for Father's Day (a day early), Lisa wanted to take me to Greenup for a special brunch, and Elliott agreed. I enjoyed it more than I've enjoyed a restaurant in a long time! And we didn't even go inside: rather, we sat at a table for two (Elliott stayed in his carrier, beside us) in front of the cafe, in the shade. The view of the Cincinnati skyline was a bit blocked, but the Roebling bridge looked quite nice in the morning sunlight, and even The Ascent looked decent (pardon the shot -- just a bit too much hype for my liking). I love Greenup's casualness: no "host" or greeter or seater -- just grab a table and the waiter will come by. Menus were already on the table, waiting. And sidewalk dining, with a light breeze, was lovely. Elliott enjoyed himself, as a nice dog came by and obligingly had his people stand around for a bit, allowing Elliott to mumble and chuckle at the canine.

Greenup's menu is available on the website; prices have increased a bit. But you are, after all, paying in part for the experience (I'll never afford a meal at one of Chef de Cavel's other establishments) and the qualifications of the staff (14 years of pastry and chocolate!). The waiter, too, was excellent, professional -- calm, casual, helpful, not bubbly or pushy.

Back to the menu: I, of course, had a terrible time choosing. The fine tart of the day was roasted red pepper, mushroom, asparagus and parmesan -- sounded pretty good! And then I was interested in that omelette -- or the quiche Lorraine. Lisa figured out pretty quickly what she wanted: the croque monsieur, but with the eggs scrambled and on the side, rather than on top. I finally ordered the puff pastry with goetta and piperade with poached egg and hollandaise. As it turned out, both came with breakfast potatoes -- halved small potatoes oven roasted with onions and seasonings.

• Croque monsieur: Lisa's was quite good, with gruyere cheese and good ham. The eggs, she noted, were cooked as she liked them, fairly firm, not fluffy like fastfood.


• Puff pastry with goetta: This was lovely. The puff pastry was used to make a small sort of cup, with a little "cap" sliced off. The cup was filled with a mixture of goetta (broken up) and piperade (bell peppers and onions cooked together, probably with some seasonings). The goetta-piperade mixture had a poached egg sitting on top, and hollandaise was drizzled over this. Finally, the puff-pastry cap went on top. The beauty of the dish is in its balance: no flavor, including the sauce, overpowered the others, so I could taste them all. Wonderful!

As we readied to leave, we decided to take a couple of pastries with us -- a bearclaw for Lisa, although she gave me a fair amount of it (yaaaay!), and a scone for me. We had these a good bit later, as breakfast -- although it didn't look massive on the plates -- left us quite satisfied.

I've been waiting to blog Greenup until we had a meal there, but I should report on the pastries as well. I've raved about the place, because the pastries are phenomenal but still cheaper than what you'd get for inferior "pastries" at chain coffeehouses. (The coffee's very good at Greenup, too, by the way.) Here are notes on a few of our favorites.

• Scones: The only scones I've had in the U.S. that remind me of the one I ate near Windsor Castle, Greenup's are wonderful -- large, tender, buttery. The flavors vary from day to day.


• Bearclaw: A newer addition to the pastry lineup, this ain't your typical bearclaw. No, indeedy! It's made with puff pastry, to start with. Then it has pastry cream inside, which soaks into the pastry. It's topped with sliced almonds and powdered sugar. I love one touch: on the receipt, a bearclaw shows up as "GRRRRRRRRRRR."


• Almond croissant: Lisa's favorite, this is a croissant filled with almond paste (or something like that) and topped with sliced almonds and powdered sugar. I don't even like almonds, but I like these.


• Pain raisin: I spent some time online trying to learn to say this with French pronunciation, like Chef de Cavel did one day when he happened to wait on me at the pastry counter. But I can't do it. Anyway, it's puff pastry wrapped up like a cinnamon roll, with pastry cream and raisins (dark and golden) inside. It must be brushed with a glaze of some sort. The pastry inside gets gooey with the cream, the raisins on the outside carmelize, and the whole thing's wonderful.


• Ham and gruyere croissant: Like Lisa's croque monsieur, but with the ham and cheese cooked inside a croissant. Quite nice!


• Creme brulee: I know, I know: not a pastry. But I'll put it here anyway. These are about the creamiest, richest, silkiest things I've ever eaten. Must be tasted to be believed.

It was a delightful Father's Day celebration, a memorable meal. Next time, Lisa's decided she'll have the croissant perdu (think French toast made with a genuine croissant). I'm not sure -- tart du jour? quiche Lorraine? Who knows!

Rating: 13 (5, 5, 3) (What's this?)
Lisa's rating: Fine fixin's, fabulous father