The Winchester

(Grand Rapids, MI) The week before the long memorial day weekend gave us many sunny days in a row, and you could almost feel the impatience of other people to get on with their holiday plans. We decide to get things rolling by properly reviewing one of our favorite hangouts, The Winchester, in the burgeoning Wealthy Street district of Grand Rapids...

He Fed:
For me, sunny days are designed for sitting on the deck at The Winchester. Opened a few years ago and named for the bar in Shaun of the Dead, this gastropub does a good job of offering a variety of drinks and food prepared with more style than your ordinary alehouse. Sitting inside can be a bit intimidating; bad acoustics make loud-talkers seem even more obnoxious and tight quarters when it's crowded might mean delays when being served. I'm not ashamed to say we've walked out and gone elsewhere when those conditions exist.

Today, however, we have the run of the place at lunchtime. It is quiet and cool inside. They appear to have modified the seating somewhat and I smell fresh paint or lacquer. Maybe they've made improvements to quell the acoustics? Time will tell. For now, we only want to be outside, soaking up the glorious sunshine and drinking a cold beverage while the rest of the world goes about their daily business.

We snag a patio table with an umbrella, hoping it will protect us from the harsh UV rays. (It does, but only partially; the sun keeps rotating until Juliet feels the brunt and gets a deep burn at the end of the day.) Two waitresses appear, quietly divvy up our table from another active station at the other end of the deck, then disappear back inside. Our chosen server pops back out moments later with menus. Throughout our visit she is efficient, cheerful, playful and keeps our water glasses filled. She's the best server we've had at The Winchester and the best server we've had in Grand Rapids in a long time.

Already, we know we want to start with the deviled eggs and we are starving. We are told they may not be ready yet, but she'll check with Chef Andy. Thankfully, they are done in time! As far as deviled eggs go, these are pretty typical...and that's okay. It's great pub food with a little kick of paprika. They go down quickly, laying a base for the cold beverages. The draught list is unfortunatly out of date, with three or four substitutions so I pick an old standby: Red Hook ESB. It is crisp, bitter and refreshing.

Our friend Kim joins us shortly thereafter, while we peruse the menu. For my entree I gravitate toward the Polish plate. I am a sucker for Polish food, especially cabbage and pierogies. This dish is a twist on the standard Polish fare, however. The pierogies are filled with butternut squash and goat cheese, making for rich, creamy and earthy pasta pouches. They sit atop a low mound of braised, chopped cabbage and onion that tastes smoky and buttery with some firmness left. Split sausage planks flank the outside, still juicy and salty. It is a fun dish that doesn't look like much on the plate but once you dig in, you begin to see the brilliance at work in the kitchen.

I switch to a pale ale while we continue to visit and the ladies finish their entrees (I always eat a little too quickly, particularly if it's good). Then it hits me: I'm still hungry! Juliet had expressed some interest in the Black Pepper Wings earlier, so I flag down our server and order some.

Holy. Moley.

I wouldn't call myself a "wing aficiando" but I do enjoy drumsticks from Hooters (cajun style!), Outback (they are huge), and Buffalo Wild Wings (boneless jerk style). In my estimation, The Winchester's Black Pepper Wings are the best wings in town. I devour most of them, savoring the spicy punch of black pepper and the heavy sauce in the bottom of the mini-skillet. The chicken is meaty and juicy, perfectly prepared, but it is the sauce I will be dreaming about for some time.

After we let our server know how efficient she's been and how thankful we are, we reluctantly depart from our bit of shade and stroll down Wealthy Street, peeking into windows and wondering at the multitude of other eateries we've yet to try.

4 out of 5 mezzalunas

She Fed:
Having skipped breakfast, I immediately ask for ice tea with lemon and an order of deviled eggs as soon as we are seated. I've had the deviled eggs before and know they will hit the spot. Our waitress tells us the deviled eggs might not be ready yet as Chef Andy was just making them, but she promises to check.

Luckily for me and my low blood sugar, the eggs are available! They're so liberally spiced with paprika that the filling is pink. Five of them are nestled in a bed of mixed greens and I would normally knife and fork the eggs with the greens, but I am so hungry I skip the silverware and take a big bite. The egg white is firm, but not rubbery (don't you hate that?) and the filling is just as I remember it: creamy and slightly smoky from the paprika. A comforting way to take the edge off my hunger. I drain my ice tea and feel nearly human again.

Our friend Kim joins us and we spend a few minutes catching up then turn our attention to the menu. The Winchester has a wide variety of sandwiches, small plates, soups and salads, each dish with a unique spin. In addition, our server details the two daily specials: a salad with seared mahi, field greens, grapefruit, strawberries and more, and a beef brisket sandwich with pineapple salsa on ciabatta.

I'm debating between the salad special, the pad Thai (Jeremy says it's the best in Grand Rapids), the smoked mushroom and goat cheese crostini or the fish tacos. I've had the last two before and adored them both. I decide to go with the unknown and order pad Thai with the addition of shrimp ($2) and one scrambled egg (free) for some extra protein. A little overkill after the deviled eggs, I know.

It is quite hot out, probably in the low 80's and our waitress does a first-rate job of keeping our waters filled throughout our two hour lunch. She brings a carafe of ice water to our table and keeps it filled at all times. I'm sure I've mentioned in prior reviews that having to wave down the server for water is a pet peeve of mine. While our waitress is extemely busy, she does an outstanding job of taking excellent care of us.

I always have a hard time selecting a wine to go with Asian food and rose is my standby for Thai. Alas, The Winchester has no rose on the menu! I go with the Albarino, which is normally too sweet for my taste, but will offset the heat of the pad Thai nicely. Our lunches arrive and it's all I can do not to take a bite of Jeremy's "Polish Platter" filled with sausages and pierogi and Kim's grilled Caesar salad with chicken. My pad Thai is served in a large Chinese take-out container with chopsticks and an oversized bowl. The shrimp are grilled to that perfect "c" shape you want (a chef once told me when cooking shrimp, "C" equals cooked and "O" equals overcooked.)

As I dig in, I realize there is a serious amount of food in this small plate. The scrambled egg is enmeshed in the noodles and the veggies, bok choy, carrots and pea pods; all add a fresh crunch. The pad Thai is spicy, sweet and curiously citrus-y...a bit like lemongrass. It's mot at all like the reddish sauce with peanut crumbles I've had on pad Thai before. Again, the kitchen has made this dish uniquely their own and opened my eyes to new tastes.

There are a few things The Winchester could improve upon. The accoustics are pretty bad and it's nearly impossible to hold a conversation inside the restaurant on a busy night. In addition, the menu posted online as well as the menus used in the restaurant are out of date. Our waitress made a point to alert us to a few of the dishes on the menu that are no longer available. I think her words sum it up: "We really need to get new menus printed up!"

That said, I think The Winchester is one of the most innovative restaurants in Grand Rapids. There is some serious talent in the kitchen that should not be missed.

3.5 out of 5 mezzalunas

© 2010 HeFedSheFed.com

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Grand Cafe

(San Francisco, CA) After departing from Santa Rosa, we decide to stay a couple nights in san Francisco so we can be closer to the airport but also to spend some time in one of our favorite cities. Some might consider Union Square a bit touristy; we enjoy the convenience of having so many great restaurants, hotels and shopping hot spots within walking distance. Thanks to OpenTable.com, we are able to make 8p seating at Grand Cafe...

He Fed:
I am particularly fond of French food these days. Perhaps it's all that butter? Or the almost unnerving meditation on all things meat? Thus, as we walk through the bar (they call themselves a "Brasserie and Bar"), my excitement mounts. Will they offer straight-up French food or some kind of fusion menu? As you can tell from the video, I am feeling playful, even chatting up some pre-theater guests on their way out as we enter. The restaurant proper is enormous, with cathedral ceilings thirty-feet high and Art Deco design. Busy black-and-white uniformed servers zip to and fro, efficient and aloof. In the air, sizzling skin from some succulent beast. A champagne cork pops somewhere in the distance, resounding off the curved walls.

After a few elongated moments, we are met by a hostess who tells us she will be right back. She slips away, presumably to check our table. A minute later, a gentleman approaches, asks our name, then leads us to be seated, menus in hand. This awkward dance strikes me as odd, but I am in too good a mood to let it bother me. Clearly, the restaurant is adjusting to the theater crowd dissipation and the late-night diners (such as we are) wandering into the confusion.

A passing waiter notices our table. He speaks to another server. They seem to come to an agreement, then disappear to alert someone. Finally, our server arrives. He has a gash on his head, evidently from a late-night altercation with an inanimate object (as we find out later), but he is cordial, cool, and professional at the outset. He brings us sparkling water and takes our order.

Truth be told, I'm not terribly hungry despite the late hour. Our earlier lunch at The Girl and the Fig still stuck to my ribs. I figure I can muster up soup and an entree, but will skip apps or a dessert. Nevertheless, Juliet orders Artichaut Vapeur (steamed artichokes) and I bravely help her with a couple bites. The flavorful mustard vinagrette mediates the puckery flesh of the artichoke, but I'm not that impressed. I'm sort of off the artichoke bandwagon for now, until I experience another recipe.

My soup—the Soupe du Jour—arrives, piping hot and an unholy orange color in a deep bowl. Still tingling from my recent brush with the Tunisian Carrots at Willi's Wine Bar in Santa Rosa, I see if this carrot soup measures up. It does not. Although it is soothing and warm, the carrot flavor does not come through. It wants of salts or pepper or butter or all of the above. It's not bad, just not outstanding. As it turns out, none of that matters.

As loyal readers of HeFedSheFed.com will recall, I have a "thing" for cassoulet. I'm not sure, exactly, how to define my obsession with it. Ordinarily I would not eat the individual components of this dish. In fact, I studiously avoid those ingredients most of the time. But with cassoulet, I have a weird attraction to the whole of it...a kind of psycho-sexual love-disgust. Is that wrong?

Maybe, but I could not care less. Because in front of me is a fresh-out-of-the-oven crockery filled with Cassoulet Maison. The butter beans are plump, rising out of the thin sauce like stars in the firmament. In the middle, boudin blanc (bloodless cajun sausage), duck confit, lamb shoulder, garlic-pork sausage and smoked bacon. Meat, meat, meat, meat and meat. Quivering a little, I scoop a spoonful of flesh and beans, savoring the salty, earthy and herb-stewed mixture. The French pinot noir I asked him to pair goes nicely, but it definitely takes a backseat to the cassoulet. The heavens open. Angels sing. I pay no heed to Juliet, our server, or the other patrons. I am in my own little world.

When it is gone, I am done. Our waiter—convinced now that we are actually cool people who won't run off without paying the bill—loosens up and becomes almost too chatty. We finish our drinks. We slap down the credit card. Then we stroll out into San Francisco, full and happy and already thinking about the next adventure.

4 out of 5 mezzalunas

She Fed:
Our arrival is a bit awkward. The entrance leads to the bar, which is chaotic and noisy. The restaurant is up a few stairs and towards the back of the building, but there is no signage nor staff person to direct us. We find our way to the hostess stand and wait. And wait some more until the hostess returns to tell us she will be right with us, but she needs to "make sure your table is ready". This seems a little odd to me given that the restaurant has just gone through pre-theatre rush and is less than a quarter full. A few moments later a man steps up to the hostess stand and tells us to follow him. (Somehow in this process our OpenTable reservation does not get confirmed so when we return home we discover we are classified as “no shows” at Grand Cafe.)

Once seated, we wait more than a few minutes for water, which gives us time to look over the entire men. It is very French. After the second read-through, we still haven’t seen a busboy or server. Just a few more minutes pass and the busboy arrives to take our order for sparkling water. And it’s only seconds later when our waiter Greg arrives and explains the night's special to us. Greg is affable and answers our questions with confidence and efficiency. I suspect he stepped away to recover from a hectic pre-theatre rush and nobody bothered to tell him he had a new table. Greg does not strike me as a server who wants to keep a table waiting, ever.

I have been craving meat and opt for the lamb chops. Since Jeremy is ordering soup, I decide to go for the French onion soup and also ask for an order of the fried artichoke appetizers for us to start with. It being California in April, I assumed we'd be bombarded with artichokes, but this is the first time we've seen it on a menu out here before tonight. I order a glass of red to go with it all, but after all our indulgences of Sonoma, I can’t bear to learn about and analyze one more new wine and just ask Greg to pick a glass for me. (Am I really becoming jaded on red wine? In under a week?)

The artichokes are lightly battered in a lemony coating and flash fried. Served with lemon slices and crisp parsley, they are crispy, clean and bright tasting; however, as we drill down into the bowl, we find the artichokes becoming overly greasy. I'm not complaining that my fried food is slightly oily. Don't get me wrong, I expect a little sheen. But it's pooling at the bottom of the bowl and making the other bits and pieces soggy. Not so great.

The French onion soup saves the moment. It is slightly sweet with an intense onion taste. The broth is deep, dark and beefy with a delicious toasted baguette slice floating on top. (I like when the bread part of French onion soup is still crispy! You know it hasn’t been sitting under a heat lamp for hours.) The best part is the thick layer of Gruyere melted on top of it all. It arrives at the table looking like a small crock encased in melted cheese and it's only after I dive into the cheese that I uncover the wonderful toast, broth and onions.

I'm actually fairly full when the lamb chops arrive, Frenched of course. Two lovely meaty chops sit atop mixed veggies and a small side of sauteed mushrooms. I move the chops to dig into the mushrooms, then devour the broccoli...THEN move into the chops. The lamb is cooked perfectly medium-rare and the meat is rich and flavorful, without being gamey. I was recently told (in a lamb cooking class of all places) that when lamb is gamey it is because it is not fresh. The longer you let lamb sit, the gamier it gets. This lamb might have trotted in the back kitchen door moments ago because it tastes divine. My red meat craving is satiated.

I find myself too full for dessert, too full for espresso, even too full for a second glass of wine. (Huh?) The decor of Grand Cafe is not to be missed; it is very architecturally interesting. I spend much of the evnenng looking up at the tremendously high ceilings, columns and archways throughout. Despite the initial hiccup, the service was very thorough. The menu features a lot of fabulous French fare and the wine list is extensive. I am sure I will regret not delving in to the wine list deeper. Bon appetit!

3.5 out of 5 mezzalunas

© 2010 HeFedSheFed.com

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Meritage

(Sonoma, CA) Just outside the main Sonoma square is a restaurant called Meritage, operated by chef Carlo Cavallo, who we met a couple years ago at a wine event. His culinary creativity and passon for all things food really endeared him to us, so we make it a point to seek out his restaurant when we're in the Sonoma area. Although he was not in-house the night we chose to bring Tom and Susan along, his style was apparent in every dish...

He Fed:
The last time we visited Meritage in 2008, we were given a table out back under the tent (what amounts to patio seating) and treated to fresh dishes suggested and prepared by chef Carlo himself. (It was my first taste of really good calamari and I've never looked back.) Tonight, we come in through the front door and I am immediately struck by the separation of the martini and oyster bar from the main dining area, which consists of casual booths and small tables suited for romantic dinners and quiet conversation. I like the vibe of the bar area being sectioned off, so the rowdier crowd doesn't spill over into the area where people are enjoying their dinners.

I decide early on to pace myself so I can make it to dessert. (Why is it, in a group situation, we are more prone to eating dessert? Maybe dessert is a social event?) I ask our server which dish he would recommend and without pause he says, "The chicken ravioli." I'm normally a bit dubious about chicken pasta because you never know what odd bits might turn up, but I have enough faith in the restaurant to take the leap. I order the chicken ravioli and ask him to pair a nice glass of Italian red wine with it.

While we wait for our entrees, I watch the kitchen entrance where there is a good-sized lobster tank swimming with the crustaceans. Unfortunately for them, lobster is the special tonight (none of us ordered it). Every twenty minutes or so, one of the kitchen staff rolls up his sleeve, reaches into the water, and snags a squirming critter who is promptly escorted backstage for a hot bath and left to dry on a dinner plate. Talk about fresh!

Not much later, the food arrives. My hand-made chicken ravioli purses glisten in a sprinkling of tomato and baby artichoke chardonnay sauce. I dig in with my fork, cutting the pasta in two and peering inside. Well-ground chicken mixed with cheese and herbs has been stuffed in the middle. I fork it, swish it around in the creamy sauce and try a bite. The ravioli practically melts in my mouth, the roughness of the cheese and chicken sliding along the top of my tongue, while the wine-spiked tomato sauce hits all the right acidity notes everywhere else on my palate. The earthiness of the artichokes helps lend some gravity to the tomato. Before I know it, I've dispatched two more bites.

I seldom order dessert that is chocolate-centric, and I'm not a huge fan of cakes or pies unless they are out of the ordinary. So, when it comes time to order a sweet ending to our dinner, I opt for the vanilla bean gelato drowned in a tall mug of espresso. The creamy frozen treat dissolves slowly, frothing up like a sugary latte. I use my spoon at first, but after a few minutes the dessert becomes drinkable. It is good but not too heavy. As a friend of mine says, "It fills in the cracks."

Without any qualms, I recommend Meritage for a great meal, consistently. If you enjoy seafood, there are many fresh choices that will be too tempting to pass up. If, like me, you don't eat very much seafood, there's still enough on the menu to entice you and you won't be disappointed. Tell Chef Carlo that Juliet and Jeremy sent you (and watch for his new restaurant in Vegas, if you're out that way).

4 out of 5 mezzalunas

She Fed:
Again, this was another much anticipated meal! Jeremy and I had the pleasure of meeting Chef Carlo-Allessandro Cavallo at a wine and food event in 2008 and later when travelling through the area with friends in 2009, we not only had the wonderful experience of having lunch prepared especially for our table by Chef Carlo, but we were also guests in his home for a tour of his gorgeous kitchen and biodynamic gardens. The tour included a hands-on pizza grilling lesson and an amazing luncheon. I still remember eating the shaved fennel and celery salad, dressed simply with olive oil, lemon juice, salt and pepper and the veggies were still warm from his garden. By the end of the meal, Jeremy and I were talking about moving to California for the fresh produce year-round.

We know in advance Chef will not be available during our visit (he's opening a new restaurant in Vegas!), but we walk through the door with high expectations nonetheless. Meritage does not disappoint. Seating us promptly in a cozy booth, our hostess explains the evening's specials (which include a complete lobster meal for a ridiculously low price) to us, waters are poured and drink orders taken. Throughout the evening, the service is efficient without being rushed.

One side of the menu is dedicated almost entirely to the raw bar and a plate of oysters sounds mighty good to me. But I can't figure out what else I want and "just oysters" isn't going to do it for me. Although I briefly consider having more than one order of "just oysters", I decide to go for a more traditional Italian meal. I remember being blown away by Chef's pasta in 2009 and I decide to go meatless and try the gnocchi with mushrooms in a truffled sauce.

These are the largest damn gnocchi I've ever seen! Huge, very clearly housemade pillows of tender pasta are bathing with mushrooms in a creamy truffle-scented sauce. The gnocchi are tender, cooked perfectly and somehow "light" in all their hugeness. The kitchen does not skimp on the baby bella mushrooms either, which is great as I simply adore mushrooms. The white truffle oil adds a layer of earthiness and richness to the dish, but isn't overpowering. I've had overtruffled dishes; I’ve been a bit heavy-handed with the truffle oil in my own cooking and found you CAN actually have a bit too much of a good thing. That is not the case here. The pasta, the mushrooms and the truffled cream sauce are a trifecta and surely the standout of my meal.

That is, until dessert arrives. I order the lemon meringue tart only to discover (and I hate to admit it) it's the closest I've ever had to my mother's lemon meringue pie. I've always said hers was the best, but I believe Chef Carlo and crew may have stumbled on her recipe. Meritage's crust is buttery and light, while the bright yellow (as in fresh, not as in fake-looking) filling is tart and puckery in it’s lip-smacking lemony goodness. All topped with a cloud of creamy sweet meringue that's been torched to dark burnt sugary peaks. So authentic and so pure, it reminds me of family celebrations of years past when I'd request mom's lemon meringue pie. Ahhhh.

We missed visiting with Chef, but we loved the visit to Meritage.

4 out of 5 mezzalunas

© 2010 HeFedSheFed.com

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zazu

(Santa Rosa, CA) After an early morning of hot air ballooning (courtesy Up & Away) followed by a nice visit to our friends at GlenLyon Vineyards (where Squire graciously signed our DVD of John Carpenter's Village of the Damned), we show up at zazu for a late dinner with our friends Tom and Susan. Perhaps because we know chef Duskie Estes pretty well, we spent more time socializing and enjoying the fresh ingredients than we did shooting video...

He Fed:
We pull in to another Santa Rosa weather-beaten roadside building with a gravel parking lot that few would suspect harbors a world-class chef and culinary delights beyond measure. I remember the last time we were here, but only with vague impressions because we first visited the restaurant at the start of our foodie adventures and I'm pretty sure I was besotted with too much wine-tasting. I do recall the chef being exceptionally nice and the food prepared exquisitely. Then, it had been after sundown; today, the sun is still shining as we all pile out of the rental car and enter the slightly dimmer interior.

The first thing I smell is food cooking: meat, spice, the sharp tang of sauteed veggies. Although I'm not ravenous, the atmosphere jump starts my appetite. As soon as the door closes behind us, Duskie is standing right there behind the bar! I am perhaps too easily starstruck and tend to shrink like a wallflower in the presence of someone who actually appeared in a movie or on television. Duskie and her husband have appeared on the California promotional spots. She greets us warmly, then turns us over to the hostess who seats us at a round table that is conducive to conversation and sharing food.

Everything on the menu looks great, and we know it will be fresh because zazu grows all their own vegetables and livestock. We start with ramekins filled with assorted "appetizers": pureed eggplant sprinkled with goat cheese, that spreads like hummus on warm pita points and is simultaneously earthy and addictive; golden beet "caviar" is sweet and just as spreadable as the eggplant; farro bean salad provides just the right amount of contrast and starchy texture; but it is the baby Japanese radishes with dipping butter that steals the show. Each tiny radish brings some heat, which is quickly quelled by the herbed butter. Outstanding!

After my flirtation with the vegetarian lifestyle, I decide to mix it up a bit by partaking of their "Pizza & Pinot" special. I experience a slight twinge of guilt, ordering a less expensive meal at a friend's restaurant; you want to give them all the business you can, right? Still, it's pretty hard to resist the Carbonara pizza with black pig bacon and a fried egg on top. Yes, you heard me right...a fried egg. I have a rough time passing up any dish that incorporate an actual egg on top, whether it's a Royal Red Robin or eggs benedict. I'm not sure which glass of pinot noir to pair with the pizza and after some discussion with the rest of the group, we decide to share a bottle of Black Pig Pinot Noir, zazu's own branded wine.

The pizza arrives, resplendent in swathes of mozzerella cheese lurking under chunks of well-cooked, succulent black pig bacon and cross-sections of asparagus. But on top, like a crown, is a gorgeous fried egg. My first bite is crunchy yet slippery smooth. The asparagus are firm, softened just a tad by the heat of the oven. They are complemented perfectly by the salty meat. When I bite into the sunshiney goodness of the egg, however, it all devolves into memories of brunches long past. The crust is nice but plain, and that may be for the best, considering the interplay of toppings. All of this is washed down nicely by the wine, which is a no-nonsense vintage from Russian River Valley that is reminiscent of good Italian table wine (with a bit more pinch to it).

It is unfortunate that I've left no room for dessert. While Tom goes for the vanilla bean gelato and Juliet opts for a strawberry risotto dish, I decline. It hardly matters! With compliments from the chef, we are presented with a Mexican hot chocolate and glazed doughnut. I am intrigued, of course, by the hot chocolate drink and take a tentative sip...BOOM GOES THE DYNAMITE! Hot chile pepper breathes heat through the bittersweet chocolate, mingling with cinnamon and a slightly nutty aftertaste. I force everyone else to have a taste as well, then dunk the doughnut into the spicy sweet mixture, relishing the way the pastry softens on my tongue so I barely need to chew.

More than satisfied, we pay the bill and bid Duskie and crew a fond farewell. This has been another fun trip to Santa Rosa, and we're always happy to delve into the fresh offerings of the region. Although this trip has only been our second visit, we cannot imagine not stopping by again when we're in the area. zazu is worth seeking out, every time and when you do, tell them Juliet and Jeremy sent you.

She Fed:
In the interest of full disclosure I should share that I've been to zazu before and I've had the wonderful opportunity to meet the owner-chefs Duskie Estes and John Stewart. In fact, I've worked a few wine and food events with Duskie, laughed over cocktails with her at the famous Food & Wine "Top of the Mountain" party and if my fuzzy memory serves, she and I were part of a larger crew intent on draining a few bottles of event wine poolside in Aspen last June. I unabashedly adore Duskie. I admire and respect the hell out of what she and her husband are striving toward. (They grow the veggies, raise the pigs, cure the bacon and make the salumi themselves. Come on!) And I just outright love her food.

We walk in the door at 8p to find the place hopping. Duskie is behind the bar and zips over to give some hugs, while saying something about hoping to make us proud in the kitchen, which I think is adorable given the rave reviews zazu receives and her reputation in the industry. (After all, when the California tourism folks had to pick talent for their "come to California" commercials, it's Duskie and John you see behind the bar and picking veggies on their farm.)

We start with a platter of smoky eggplant dip, a slightly chunky puree of golden beets, farro salad and local baby radishes with tarragon butter served with grilled rustic bread, warm pita triangles and smaller toast points. The next half hour is lost in munching and chatter. I've never had farro before and find myself loving it. Like a cross between legume and over-sized Israeli couscous, it's chewy, nutty and perfectly seasoned in a vinagrette. Not quite a puree, not quite a finely chopped mixture, the beets are tangy, sweet and slightly buttery all at the same time. Schmeared on the charred toast, the orangey-yellow melange is rich and lovely. I decide immediately to figure out how to prep farro and "beet caviar" when we return home.

I have long read about eating fresh spring radishes by dipping them in sweet butter and salt. I can never find fresh radishes at the market, so I've never tried it before tonight. The radishes on our table are small and elongated, like the size of my thumb or even smaller. Dragging the pink-white radishes through the green-flecked butter is nearly as much fun as eating them. The radishes are very slightly peppery, a crisp contrast to the silky sweet tarragon butter. I vow to set the alarm on Saturdays and head to the farmer's market to find good radishes this summer.

The eggplant dip is indeed smoky, earthy and deeply satisfying. I try it on the pita triangles, the toast points and the charred toast. I'm willing try it on a spoon or even off my index finger. I can actually taste the eggplant, instead of an overwhelming assault of garlic or tahini like I've had with other eggplant dips. Promise #4 is to learn to cook eggplant this summer.

At some point we realize we need to order dinner though I'm fully prepared to order another round of farro, radishes, beets and eggplant just for me. Instead I go with the grilled salmon over fava bean and farro. Gotta try more farro! I also order a side of fried green tomatoes with buttermilk dipping sauce. Our food arrives and we all begin to oooh and aaah over the sights and smells in front of us.

My salmon is cooked perfectly and the top has a tasty nearly-blackened crust. I discover farro is equally yummy served hot and this farro is in a light butter sauce with fava beans. The fried green tomatoes are sturdy and chewy with a light breading. The buttermilk sauce is fresh and just a bit tart...divine. I begin to reconsider my decision to never, ever deep-fry anything in the condo.

Duskie treats us to an order of fresh asparagus sauteed in brown butter and served with pistachios. What could I possibly say about this dish that you aren't already thinking? And yes, I promise to try to replicate this one at home, too.

Dessert...a scoop of vanilla bean gelato, Mexican hot chocolate with fresh donuts (another gift from Chef Duskie) and a scoop of honey gelato with roasted strawberries. Absolutely spectacular. Duskie comes out to chat for a bit and we bid her adieu until our next Sonoma visit. I leave feeling pleasantly full, completely satisfied and so in awe of her talent.

Worth the airfare.

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Hot Air Balloon Ride

Every once in a while, our adventures range outside the culinary world but are initiated by our love of food and drink. Hence, the video below. As part of our wine-tasting auction prize, we also "won" a hot air balloon ride over the vineyards of Napa valley (courtesy Up & Away). We had a spectacular time and a very nice champagne brunch at Kendall Jackson after landing. If you are ever given the opportunity to ride in a hot air balloon, go for it!


© 2010 HeFedSheFed.com

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Willi's Wine Bar

(Santa Rosa, CA) After a nightmarish sojourn to San Francisco, including cancelled flights due to fuel leaks and delayed flights due to late-arriving flight attendants, we were almost glad to hop into our rented Prius and drive north across the Golden Gate Bridge to leave it all behind (at least temporarily). A quick brunch at the Lighthouse Cafe in Sausalito helped to wipe away the memory of too many hours spent in airports, but our first dinner at Willi's Wine Bar in Santa Rosa expunged the bad taste of travel entirely...

He Fed:
Santa Rosa seems to have a knack for hiding restaurants along roadsides, disguising them as dusty, slightly-ramshackle bars you wouldn't otherwise glace at twice as you drove by. Indeed, we nearly zoom by before turning in to the tight, packed parking lot and managing to snag the last legitimate spot. Score! Not that it stops other patrons; parking on the grass seems matter of course.

A nice young lady greets us and we ask for patio seating. Almost everyone else is indoors because seventy degree weather is just to chilly for those poor Californians. Despite that, a faint breeze does cause Juliet to ask for a heat lamp, which is promptly lit for our dining comfort. Settled in and feeling frisky, we start things off with a flight of sparkling wines: Roederer "L'Ermitage" Brut is firm, but a little too pedestrian for my tastes; the J "Brut Rose" is much more complex, eliciting more citrus and vanilla tones; and the Ruggeri Prosecco finishes off with a more subdued but crisp flavor.

At this stage, I am feeling pretty good and a bit overwhelmed by the massive menu offerings. We decide to journey wherever our taste buds lead us, savoring as many of the small plates as we can handle. We begin on the Mediterranean menu (not yet knowing that it's Mediterranean where we'll end, 5 days later), and order a Flatbread with smoked cheddar, spring onions, piquillo peppers, brocolli rabe and boccalone lardo. I'm not a huge fan of rabe but I figure with all the other savory toppings, it won't be too bad. What the heck is Boccalone Lardo, though? A quick check at Boccalone.com confirms my suspicion that it is meat; it is basically proscuitto seasoned with rosemary and juniper. When it arrives on a serving board, it is a beautiful riot of color and smell. One bite tells me we are in for a treat, as the smoked cheddar envelops the vegetables atop the not-too-crispy crust, and the Lardo plays nicely with the peppers.

Sticking with Mediterranean, I decide to indulge my vegetarian lifestyle (inside joke) and order the Tunisian Roasted Local Carrots with Pine Nuts, Olive and Mint. Again, the plate is a painter's palette that will soon be travelling MY palate! I dig in with my fork. The carrots are huge, cooked but still firm (the way I like them). My first bite is sweet and earthy, the balsamic reduction sauce tangy like foreign barbecue sauce, mingling with the spicy mint leaves. Pine nuts provide a textural contrast while assorted olives offer up a salty counterpoint. Definitely one of the best vegetarian dishes I've enjoyed outside the French Laundry.

The closer we get to the finish line, the more obvious it is that I'll not have room for dessert. Still, I am craving variety so I do the next best thing to dessert...cheese! I choose a selection of three cheeses and ask our server to pair them with reds. He brings another three heavy wine pours on a placemat handwritten with the pairings: Cave Aged Marlsa sheep's milk cheese (creamy with a salty exterior) from Carr Valley, WI goes with the very berry 2007 Yorba barbera "Shake Ridge Vynd" from Amador; Truffle Tremor goat cheese from Cypress Grove, CA (too much truffle for me) goes with the lush but pert 2008 Seguana "Sarmento Vnyd" from Saint Lucia Highlands; and Hoja Santa goat's milk cheese from Mozzerella Co, TX (firm and tasting of herbs) goes with the spicy and deep 2007 Marotti Campi lacrima di morro d'alba from Italy.

Somehow, after all that, I am able to muster a tiny bite of Juliet's filet mignon sliders (the creamed spinach is gross) and another miniscule spoonful of the fantastic mac-n-cheese. Then it's "forks down" and time to head back to the hotel, which is blissfully less than a mile down the road.

Without a doubt, Willi's Wine Bar is an amazing restaurant. Despite the rustic appearance and "crazy gold prospector" name, the food inside is world-class, prepared lovingly with attention to every detail. It is no surprise that we make it our final stop on the way out of Santa Rosa, experiencing a lunch that is nearly equal to our dinner (same friendly server as well). When we are next in that neck of the woods, we will definitely be going back and I already miss the fresh vegetables.

She Fed:
My first visit to Willi’s Wine Bar was in September of 2008. A vendor and I decided to give it a try despite the slightly corny-sounding name after a hard day setting up a demo kitchen. Exhausted and starved, we decided spur of the moment to pull into their parking lot. Luckily for us, Willi’s hit all the right spots and I was so looking forward to sharing this lovely Santa Rosa wine bar with my husband.

When we arrive, they offer to seat us outside, which is a partially screened in porch-like area. Just beyond is true patio seating, so we ask to be seated there instead. The hostess offers to fire up a heat lamp. We laugh and tell her we’re from Michigan. “Heat lamps? We don’t need no stinkin’ heat lamps!” (The joke’s on me; minutes later, I ask for the lamp to be turned on!)

We begin with a flight of sparkling wines, share a flatbread and then each choose our own small plate. I order the "foie gras poppers". I know it's controversial, but I've seen the Anthony Bourdain special on foie gras and the ducks weren't mistreated in the least. They don't funnel feed them in France. In fact, the ducks looked downright happy...and delicious. Plus a Napa chef friend, whose wife is the official vet for the Sonoma Artisan Foie Gras association, said the ducks live in the lap of luxury.

Three gorgeous hunks of foie gras arrive nestled on a puff pastry shell filled with Indian spiced grape chutney. The foie is buttery and earthy, almost dirty, while the chutney is spicy and sweet. The dish is fragrantly intoxicating and actually pairs well with each of the champagnes, especially the rose Brut by "J" vineyards. (I've only had super sweet wine with foie before tonight.)

I order two other small plates I don't want Jeremy to miss out on. First is the macaroni and cheese with caramelized onions and ham. The Gruyere is creamy and nutty, while the onions are incredibly sweet. The penne still has some tooth. I don't even notice the ham, but the crunchy topping is divine. I know I should expand my horizons a bit, but is there anything more soul-satisfying than a fabulous mac and cheese?

The second dish is the filet mignon sliders on toasted brioche mini-buns. (I should admit the word "mini-buns" is my own addition; it's not listed as such on the menu, but I kind of like using the word mini-buns when describing a completely indulgent, over the top meal. Mini-buns!) The filet arrives rare, sitting atop a bed of luxurious creamed spinach, topped with a grainy mustard Bearnaise, all lovingly sandwiched within...the mini-bun. I give one over to Jeremy and inhale mine in three bites.

Jeremy isn't too keen on the spinach and stops after one wimpy little nibble. I think the best thing one can do with spinach, besides make a salad or hide it in a fruit smoothie (stuff a cup of raw leaves in with everything else and set the blender on puree and you'll never know it's there) is to cook it beyond recognition with copious amounts of butter and cream. I wipe a smudge of Bearnaise off my chin and attack the remnants of his slider; his loss.

We are in wine country, so it's worth mentioning, I pair a glass of Schweiger Cabernet with the last two small plates. It's plummy with almost metallic overtones and cuts the richness of both dishes.

Of course, I realize later I never ordered a veggie for dinner. Somehow I don't think creamed spinach counts. I will make up for it with a lunch time visit later in the week (spinach, goat cheese, date and almond salad and crab avocado tacos!). Willi's is a gem. The service was great. Go hungry. Go thirsty. Go often.

P.S. Upon sitting at our outdoor table, I did discover two tiny dessicated bug carcasses on my small plate. From their post mortem "positioning", they had obviously died in a moment of torrid insect passion. I waited to ask the server to switch plates, but Jeremy grabbed it, flicked them off and said he'd use it. But he won't eat creamed spinach? (Don't let the bug story deter you from visiting. This could happen in your backyard after all.)

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Graydon's Crossing

(Grand Rapids, MI) Last autumn, we heard some horrible news: one of our favorite restaurants, Graydon's Crossing, had caught fire. We later learned that someone had tossed a cigarette into a trash can at closing time, which then sparked flame that spread to the wooden deck and nearby property. The whole place didn't burn down, but there was enough smoke and water damage that the future looked grim. We patiently waited through the winter and early spring until, finally, it reopened in April. Would the menu change? Would all our favorite employees still be working there? On a whim, we decided to strike out for early dinner...

He Fed:
I make no bones about it: Graydon's Crossing is one of my favorite hangouts. The menu changes seasonally and the chef mixes it up on weekends with rotating specials. Plus they have the widest selection of libations on draught (expanded after their resurrection from 36 to 48 taps). It is exciting to pull into the parking lot and see a healthy number of cars already; evidently word has spread about their reopening. We manage to snag a free booth -- high-backed and private wooden alcoves stained dark, lit by small lamps. It is early enough on Saturday that we beat the usual rush, but not by much. Only thirty minutes later, arriving patrons are having a tough time finding a place to sit.

I begin with a Magic Hat Spring Odd Notion while we leaf through the menu. There are many enticing dishes on the May seasonal listing. I find myself gravitating toward the Jerk Fish, Mahi Mahi crusted with jerk seasoning and plantains, served with jalapeno slaw. I'm just not sure, though. Should I jump in with both feet and hope the fish is as good as at other places we've been recently? I need a minute or two to decide, so we both agree to start with homemade kettle chips and gorgonzola onion dip.

Our "kitchen runner" brusquely tosses the appetizer onto our table, mumbling "chips and dip" before scurrying away, presumably to attend to someone of far more importance. He neglects to notice we have no napkins, plates or silverware, and does not ask if we need anything else. No matter; I catch our waitress' eye and wave her over. Not that the chips and dip necessarily need silverware or plates, but the napkins definitely come in handy. At first the dish doesn't exactly wow us. The chips are crisp and hefty, perfectly seasoned, but the dip seems a bit too homogenous. After a few bites, though, I am able to discern the tame gorgonzola and my appreciation grows. We finish all of it.

Our waitress returns to take our dinner order. She is friendly but not overly-familiar with the menu. That's okay, in my book, considering the new staff (only a few pre-fire faces remain) is still ramping up. Juliet opts to go with the Jerk Fish Tacos so I change tack and order the Rib Eye special, medium-rare. Ordinarily I would not order a rib eye, but the description sounds great. Moments later, the waitress returns. "Did you say medium or medium-rare?" I set her straight, a bit worried now how the steak will actually be prepared. The "runner" wanders by again, tossing another dish onto the table. "Poppadoms." Although the crispy tortilla-like discs and spicy mango chutney are free with a meal, after our chips and dip they are unnecessary. I refrain.

When our meals arrive, I order a Black Magic (Guinness and Magic Hat #9) to accompany. Good thing, because they forgot my steak knife! I sip patiently in the meantime. Cold steel in hand, I immediately carve into the center of the steak and am greeted by perfectly-prepared medium-rare. Whew. I go to work, diligently carving off the first bite. Ugh! Fatty, springy and altogether tough to eat. Now I remember why I don't eat rib eye. With a surgeon's precision, I cut around the striations of fat and gristle. The meat I extract is, mostly, damn good. The jerk seasoning and cold carrot-jalapeno slaw go very well together, and the Black Magic washes it all down nicely. As with the chips and dip, my enjoyment starts low but ends up in positive country.

Juliet shares a bite of her tacos and they are good, but very, very spicy. I'm not really digging the fish and find out that I misread the menu; the fish tacos are catfish, not Mahi Mahi. Catfish has a greasy, fishy taste to my sensitive palate.

Clearly, Graydon's Crossing has a little catching up to do with their staff. Although most employees are friendly, some aren't quite up to speed and there are some synchronicity issues as well. In time, these should smooth out. The food is still very good (despite the quality of the rib eye I received) and the drinks are varied. We have had much better experiences in past but it is still one of my favorite hangouts.

She Fed:
It seems a little bizarre writing a review of Graydon's Crossing because it's our go-to place. I'm not sure I can be completely objective about a restaurant I've been going to on a regular basis for more than five years. And by "regular" I mean almost weekly. Having spent many a summer Sunday on their sunny deck, we've become friendly with a few of the staff members and have been eagerly awaiting the restaurant's re-opening.

The first thing I notice when we walk in is how incredibly clean and bright the interior is now. I suspect they had to sandblast the entire place due to smoke and water damage. The brick walls and beamed ceiling are pristine and the dark, slightly grubby floor has been replaced with very light wood planks. Luckily their gorgeous wood bar is still in place and still has lots and lots of beers on tap, but the staff is nearly all new...only one familiar face.

The beer, cocktail, and wine menu is still extensive and I start with a framboise lambic. Frothy and sweet, it is a great contrast to the bleu cheese and caramelized onion dip we decide to share. A generous amount of dip (more than a full cup) is served with Graydon's housemade potato chips. The menu listed gorgonzola in the dip and while I usually find gorgonzola to be a strong tasting cheese, I cannot taste even the tiniest bit of it in the dip. There are small dots of caramelized red onion throughout the dip, which is actually a bit reminescent of the kind you can make with a packet of dried onion soup mix. I don't mean that as a slam, but would guess that's not what the chef was going for with this dish. The chips are fabulous and the dip is pretty good, maybe worth a second chance.

There are several season specials and they all sound tempting. The grassfed lamb steak and Indian-spiced roast chicken sounds really good, but I just returned from a week-long business trip that involved several meat-centric meals. I decide to go for cajun catfish tacos, the onion soup, and a pint of the Left Hand JuJu Ginger, a spiced beer.

The soup is like French onion soup, only with Indian spices in the broth and a white cheddar-topped toasted Naan bread in place of the usual baguette slice. The soup is like any decent onion soup—rich and comforting, but the Indian spices give it a bit of a kick. It's both warm and warming. Unlike the usual baguette slice that easily disintegrates in the onion broth, the Naan bread is holding its ground and is very difficult to eat. I have to knife and fork it to break it into bite sized pieces. The spicy broth, the unctuous onions, the Naan with cheddar cheese...oh I'm in French-Indian onion soup heaven.

In between bites and slurps of the soup, I indulge in the first of my two cajun tacos. The flour tortilla is stuffed with a slaw of carrots, red peppers and jalepenos, a layer of pepper jack cheese and creme fraiche, blackened catfish nuggets dusted with cajun spices and some slivers of green cabbage. Between the jalepenos, the cheese, and the cajun spices, the tacos are not for the faint of heart. I find myself actually cooling my mouth down from a bite of taco with a spoonful of the Indian-spiced soup. My JuJu Ginger disappears quickly.

The staff is new and still seem to be finding their groove. Our onion dip arrives with no appetizer plates, silverware, or napkins and it takes our server ten minutes to check in after it's been delivered. She also waits until my lambic is gone to ask if I want a refill. In five years I don't think I've ever seen anyone wait for a drink at Graydon's. The busboy who brings the mango chutney with puppodums to our table (Graydon's always brings an order with dinner) says "Your pappodums" with all the enthusiasm of someone watching a documentary on how paint thinner is made; he is clearly bored.

It's not the same Graydon's, but maybe that's not a bad thing. The food is still innovative and fresh, and I suspect the service will even out over time. Any given sunny Sunday you will probably find me and Jeremy on the deck enjoying a beverage and a nibble.

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25 Kitchen + Bar

(Grand Rapids, MI) One of our acquaintances mentioned a restaurant which we hadn't frequented in a while, so it sounded like One Trick Pony would be the perfect choice for this week's He Fed/She Fed. Unfortunately, we weren't aware that this was also graduation weekend for nearby GVSU. We called for reservations and were greeted with a brusque, "We're booked up for Saturday." Well, good for them but bad for us. We had to come up with another choice. As it turned out, the finicky weather cleared up just enough for us to consider eating outside. The recently opened 25 Kitchen + Bar, where Margarita Grill used to be, seemed like a perfect choice. So, we braved the throngs of grads and their families to head downtown...

He Fed:
The first thing I notice is the lack of signage. Like other eateries downtown, 25 Kitchen + Bar seems to rely on window paint and word-of-mouth. I find the proper door and am pleased to see a strategically-placed hostess stand guarding the entrance between the dining room on one side and the bar to the other. This makes sense to keep rowdier drinking clientele from others who might actually want to eat their food in relative peace. Juliet asks for patio seating and despite the crowds outside, the restaurant is virtually empty at lunchtime.

The sun is shining, music is playing, and the downtown view is a nice palette for a summer day. So far the restaurant hasn't done much and we are feeling satisfied! That ends when we realize the hostess left us two cocktail menus but only one food menu. That's a little backward, right? Our waitress, who seems nice, does not notice the oversight, however slight. I ask to see a draught menu (supposedly there are 25 selections) and she has to borrow it from another table, as it is printed on a slip of paper. They are out of this beer and that beer, but they have Iron Horse instead. "What kind is it?" I ask. "Would you like a taste?" she replies. This tells me she does not know the variety of beer (IPA, Pale, Lager, etc) but I never turn down a sample. She breezes away to get me the sample before Juliet can order her drink.

When she returns, we are ready to order a starter (and Juliet's wine). The Iron Horse is of course the IPA and it is very drinkable. For our starter, we decide on the dips x 3 which includes various pita chips and toasted bread with chipotle salsa, buffalo chicken dip, and portabella bruschetta. The salsa is fresh and slightly spicy, but nothing noteworthy. The bruschetta is likewise freshly-prepared and the basil leaves make the otherwise plain tomatoes and mushrooms sing. Boasting shredded white chicken meat and a spicy buffalo sauce that's a step above Frank's Red Hot, the dip is our clear favorite. We scoop it onto pita chips, careful not to miss the shaved parmesan and finely chopped green onions, chewing happily.

Perusing the menu, we notice most of the regular dishes are overpriced as well. $22 for lobster macaroni? $25 for blue cheese crusted tenderloin? I am not convinced these will hold up well under scrutiny, especially not when there are so many other great restaurants nearby with similar fare. The Chop House is nearby and where would you rather eat a steak? Still, it's nice to have options and there are some standout offerings, like weiner schnitzel. Wait...what? Weiner? It should be wiener, not weiner!

Though it's a bit gimmicky, we each decide to order a different flatbread from among their 25 "pizzas from around the world". (See, they have 25 apps, 25 cocktails and 25 pizzas. Because they're located at 25 Ottawa, get it?) Each pizza is named after a region in the world, so you have American, Mexican, Greek and Vegetarian. Because Vegetarian is a country, right? These are the telltale weak links in their thematic, but the sheer variety of toppings is both daunting and exciting. I opt to go with the West African, paired with a sunny Oberon.

Our pizzas arrive on small paddles, looking as if they'd just come out of a brick oven. Who knows, maybe they did! For all our concern over the misprinted menus and the silly theme, the pizzas are amazing. The dough tastes like that "00" (double aught) variety commonly used in other restaurants nearby, and the toppings are just as distinctive and delicious as advertised. Mine boasts red onion, chunks of potato, slice of summer squash, turnip, shreds of carrot, a lumpy tomato marinade and whole chili peppers on top. What makes this pizza special, however, is one signature ingredient: peanut butter. That's right, the crust has been slathered with delicious peanut butter and all the other toppings distributed on top. The chili peppers are deadly because they are whole and contain all the seeds, but otherwise it is a very delectable and unusual pie.

Our server took pretty good care of us and I have no major complaints; Juliet may feel differently. The patio seating is pleasant on nice days, and I can see hitting happy hour with friends. It's a another decent option for downtowners.

She Fed:
I had heard some good buzz about 25 Kitchen + Bar and was eager to check out exactly who was using the old Margarita Grill space. We arrive to discover the entrance has moved (the old Margarita Grill entrance was confusing and convoluted, in my opinion, and this new one is much better). Other than that, most of the major architectural elements are unchanged...doesn't seem like any walls were removed, the bar is in the same location, etc. The floors are new and the paint is fresh, but inside and out it's pretty much the same.

The menu, however, is a welcome change. Loads of small plates; lots of innovative pizzas; sandwiches and salads for those who want something more traditional; and nearly ten entrees (titled "fancy stuff" on the menu).

I order a Danzante pinot grigio and and am told "We're out of that one today" so I go with the only other pinot on the list, Anterra (just so happens it's $2 less a glass). We decide to start with the "Dips x 3" and it arrives just minutes after our drinks. The platter is filled with toasted pita wedges, baguette slices, buffalo chicken dip, chipotle salsa and portabella bruschetta. The buffalo chicken is thicker than a dip—more like a spread. The shredded white meat chicken and Gorgonzola mixed with a spicy buffalo sauce is delicious on the toasted baguette slices. I use the pita wedges to scoop up the chunks of portabella mushrooms, basil and tomatoes. I'm not a big fan of raw tomatoes, but mixed with the meaty mushrooms and the crunchy seasoned pitas, it's pretty good. The odd man out is the salsa...does it go on the pita wedges or the baguette slices? Maybe I just need to think outside the box, but it seems like some tortilla chips would be a good addition to this starter.

There are more than a dozen other appetizers on the menu and I consider just having another app. Crab-stuffed mushroom caps, barbecue bourbon seared scallops or the goat cheese black bean quesadilla are among my consideration set. I take one last look at the pizzas and start counting...25 choices in all and perhaps part of why the restaurant is named 25 Kitchen + Bar, along with their address at 25 Ottawa. There is a pizza from nearly every corner of the world: Mediterranean, Thai, Caribbean, Greek, German, Hawaiian, Provencal and on it goes.

When I see a lengthy menu with far too many choices I automatically assume the chef is overreaching and all of it will be sub-par. Who the hell could possibly make so many things and make them well, right? On a whim I order a glass of a Napa cabernet blend and the Siberian pizza figuring the pizza will be nothing special and my theory will hold once again.

I was so glad to be so wrong! The 9-inch pizza arrives piping hot on a small pizza peel and I can tell immediately I am in for a fabulous treat. The crust has a very thin layer of marinara flecked with fresh thyme and is topped with shiitake mushrooms, caramelized onions and blue cheese. The crust itself is thin and the toppings are just right—not skimpy, but not so heavy that I can't pick up a slice with one hand. I normally order extra mushrooms on pizzas, but did not need to with this one; there is a shiitake in every bit. The marinara is slightly tangy, the mushrooms are earthy, the blue cheese has a sharp bite and the onions are extremely sweet. With the lushness of my red wine, it's all just a great combination. (And don't even get me started on Jeremy's pizza—it was a revelation!)

There is however, a hiccup or two along the way. As I switch from the white wine with the app to the red wine with my pizza, the waitress nearly pours my red wine on top of the remnants of my white. I literally have to cover my glass with my hand and ask for a clean glass. She recovers quickly with a "Oh, darn. I don't know what I was thinking!" Also, the menu is full of typos and inconsistent spacing; they obviously printed them in a hurry in time for their opening.

That said, 25 is definitely worth checking out again. With its large patio and great location, this would be a great place to gather a large group of friends for drinks, pizza sharing and people watching.

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