I have always kind of liked donuts. These have ranged from chocolate covered little donuts that no one ought really to eat, but are binge-worthy to . . . well, donuts at a now-defunct restaurant in Chicago called Lightwood which really blew the top off the idea of a donut. But today, I am writing about 3 donut places, one of which is a national chain and the other two of which are. . . Chicago.
First: Dunkin Donuts. Yes, the chain. And yes, the plans vary tremendously in their quality but in terms of the food they provide and the . . . ambience. I have had donuts in hospitals in both Canada and the US, in airports on occasion, and in the local Dunkin' Donuts in Geneva, NY. I have, in fact, a favorite donut from Dunkin' Donuts, and have been known to stop because i am pining for that donut. What is it? A cinnamon coated apples filling donut. I have no idea what it is called, but I know this: I like them. Dunkin Donuts are light and fluffy and now very serious as donuts go, but they do have something unnameable going for them. I think it might be called the Apple 'n Spice donut.
But really, in Chicago, the place I first fell in love with donuts was Do-Rite Donuts. The main joint is on Randolph Street (and once upon a time they were available in the South Loop). It is the first place I had a gluten free donut (and they turn out to be good there), and I have a fondness for their chocolate covered donut (yes, Valhrona Chocolate). Once in a while they have a special to die for -- and they do in fact know that bacon is good in everything, including a donut. (As a side note, they do chicken in their other location. I have never had it.) An important thing to know is that at the little "hole in the wall" on Randolph, when they are out of donuts, they are out of donuts. They are open from 7 am until around 2 pm. Go early-isa.
More recently, a Stan's Donuts opened near the Roosevelt Road el stop. And yes, I go there too often, as I walk right past it each and every day. They are not quite as good as a Do-Rite Donut, I admit, but they are pretty darn good. I have tried a range including cinnamon cake donuts, chocolate covered glazed donuts, apple fritters, and . . . well, you get my drift. I ought not do so quite as frequently as I do, but I do (it turns out) like a donut. One important thing to know about Stan's is that if you dislike the color pink, you are out of luck unless you can ignore the pink everywhere. But that never stopped me from eating a donut.
Rumor has it that Glazed and Infused are the best donuts in Chicago. Never had one. I do like the Rosie the Riveter on their website. Hmmm.
Or click here for a review of a whole raft of places, including three of the four places I mention here and a line up in case I decide to start wandering Chicago in deliberate (rather than inadvertent) search of the best donuts.
I admit it. I love the name of the restaurant I am about to review: Duck Duck Goat. I assume it is a play on that childhood classic, duck duck goose. And, yes, it is a restaurant associated with Little Goat as well as Girl and Goat of Stephanie Izard fame. Izard is a Chicago native, winner of Top Chef and more, and is supported by business partners, the Boka Group. We have wanted to go to one of her restaurants for forever - indeed, since we were fans of her when she was on Top Chef. And the day we went, we lucked in by getting a same day reservation.
Duck Duck Goat is the newest of Izard's restaurants, around the corner from the others and is located on Fulton Market. The restaurant focuses on chinese -- and the waiter said emphatically - American - food. As the waiter said, also emphatically, Stephanie returned from her trip to China and. . .
Walking in, for a very early reservation (as I said, we made it the day we ate there and thus the timing was out of our control: 4:45 pm), the restaurant seemed huge, and there was a modest sized group of people waiting to focus on diners, standing around at the reservation stand. I arrived a bit before my partner and was escorted through a huge, dare I say cavernous, site to the smallish "lounge" where there were around 8 seats and (eventually) a bar tender. I ordered a drink (and had to pay for it there rather than add it to our bill; also, I was not made aware that the cocktail list in the "lounge" was more limited than the full restaurant cocktail list). The drink -- a Luck & Profit - came in a coup and was a delightfully odd shade of white. I hung out for a few moments -- and then my partner arrived and we were off to dine.
The setting was clearly meant to lean toward China, with a lot of red in the decoration. The large space -- which started out empty od diners and ended up packed - was divided in some useful ways to ensure that people could actually hear one another. (Have I repeated endlessly comments on the six? I was just not expecting it to be so big. Enough already!)
The subsection in which we dined had tables near one another -- and lots of mirrors. (Side note: the waitress for the table beside us might have stood not between their table and ours -- where there was little room -- but between the table she was servicing and the next one, where there was much more room. A quibble I know). It was a likable and upbeat kind of setting. The table settings are chopsticks and that Asian kind of soup spoon, and the plates etc are (I think) of the restaurant's own design. I did make a fool of myself thinking the bowl for things to be eaten from was a tea cup. It was not.
Our service was quite good, with a waiter who both knew the food and had opinions about it. With my drink already made, my partner asked for a rose -- known as "odd ducks" on the wine menu - and chose in consultation with our waiter. There was several options by the glass. And she did enjoy the one she got.
We then worked our way through the menu -- which was fun. Eventually we chose one "dim sum," and three "dishes -- boiled dumplings (dim sum), an eggplant dish, snap noodles with beef, and moo shu pork.
The conversation with our waiter initially focused on noodles. We inquired about two types of noodles: silver needle noodles and slap noodles, eventually deciding to dine on slap noodles with beef. Silver needle noodles, it turns out are also called rat tail noodles due to their appearance. That is all I can remember about silver needle noodles, whereas slap noodles are pulled and slapped against the table upon which one is making them. I can say this: the mouthfeel (and yes, I am reading a book about mouthfeel which is making me obsessed with this part of dining) is wonderful -- a kind of chewy-ness that is truly worth trying. And the beef was a kind of ragu. Tasty.
In the case of the slap noodles with beef, and also the dumplings and eggplant, there was an extraordinarily nice use of peppers; fresno peppers on both dumplings and noodles, pickled banana pepper slices in the eggplant, and sweet red peppers in (I think) the moo she pork. (How did I get from noodles to peppers? Stream of consciousness.)
The eggplant was sichuan, but not terrifically spicy -- large bits, and lovely fried shallots that gave a crunch to the dish, with the vinegar-y banana peppers giving some acid. There were very small matchstick like radish bits on it as well, though these did not stand out much. As the name of the dish indicated, there was goat sausage in it -- a kind of ground goat which was not very in your face, but did impart a flavorful meatiness to the overall sense of the eggplant. Overall very nice.
And the moo she pork: I had little as I was enormously full by the time it arrived, even though we brought home left overs of everything except the dumplings. (Perhaps we ought not believe waiters who say order 4 things for 2 people? ) In any case, the pancakes were very thin and thus delightful. The one thing that put me off (though I think I was unduly negative) was the attempt by waiter and others to describe these as fajitas or tacos as though no one on the planet had ever heard of the pancakes and pork entree they were serving. No, they are not tacos or fajitas. Yes, many cultures have a flat bread like phenomenon that you wrap around various bits of food.
And, to go back to the beginning: I was a tiny bit dubious about the dumplings when we ordered them but I was wrong. They were delightful -- especially the freshness of the topping.
For the first time ever, I think, I had dessert at a Chinese restaurant. It was terrific -- called mango coconut cloud, it included a sponge cake with mango, kiwi and dragon fruit. I give it an A+ And, it was followed by two almond cookies. My partner ordered a lovely chrysanthemum tea -- which both looked lovely, was served in a delightful way, and tasted. . . floral.
One minor negative thing: I had a choking fit toward the end of the meal. I felt trapped in a corner and other than my partner everyone ignored me, including those sitting extremely close to me and the wait staff. I lived, and it is not something that is all that unusual for me, but in the middle of my panic I did wonder if I was going to be ignored while I died. Yes, an exaggeration. But still.
One minor positive thing: I love the containers left over chinese food comes in -- and these were particularly dandy. The bag we carried our leftovers to the condo in was also stamped with 2 ducks and a goat. It made me smile. And, I still have it.
Overall: I would love to go back and am really looking forward to the leftovers tonight (which is not the same night, dear reader, as you encounter these rumination!)
I love a good anthology. And, I have enjoyed much of Sandra Gilbert's work, including both Death's Door: Modern Dying and the Ways We Grieve and, more relevant to this blog, The Culinary Imagination: From Myth to Modernity published in 2014. Of course, she is most famous for The Madwoman in the Attic which I have never read, though I ought to pretend I did if I am going to continue to try to legitimize my feminist past and present and future. So, of course, the second I saw Eating Words: A Norton Anthology of Food Writing (edited by Gilbert and Roger J. Porter), what did I do? I bought it. And, I let it "bake," browsing it now and then to see what caught my fancy.
Some of what is contained in this anthology is. . . predictable . . . for anyone who thinks about and reads about food. For example, who has not heard about Proust and madelines? Who does not know that Leviticus involves food in many many (quite restrictive) ways? (Yes, it is frequently cited as though only homosexuality was taboo -- but so too are shrimp, pork, and much else). Who does not know that Jonathan Swift once made a modest proposal to (SPOILER ALERT) eat Catholic children?
If you do not know, this anthology (with its 96 entries) will be very educational. If you do, do not despair. Even for those of us who do know these things, there are new possibilities, transformative things, things that make the reader think and, on occasion, make the reader hungry. I did not know Frederick Douglass's bit on ash cakes and am the better for having read it. Nor did I know Chekhov on oysters, though this one did not change my mind about being someone who . . . well, is not a huge fan of eating oysters. Nor shall I be persuaded, later in the collection, by Seamus Heaney on oysters when I eventually read it. I remember Sinclair Lewis' The Jungle from my youthful reading, and no, I am not going to read it again, just in case I then revert to a long lifetime of not liking sausage. I like sausage and, for this purpose, prefer to remain ignorant or forgetful. Muckraking -- whether then or now -- is important. But not all important literature or muckraking . . . .turns my stomach.
I look forward to re-encountering Barthes on chopsticks and Visser on the rituals associated with dining and the piece by Adam Gopnick, with whom I once dined, listening to my partner eviscerate him on his not very smart or very feminist talk we had just heard. Even so, I usually like what I read of his efforts.
This anthology is both a collection of "classics" and an attempt to create a canon. I assume that is the role of Norton Anthologies and Norton Anthology editors. In this case, of course, two english professors are hard at work pursuing their vocations and avocations simultaneously. Indeed, they are so successful at canon creation (or validation?) that the anthology is already required reading for a course in one Masters Program in Food Studies Having edited an anthology almost 20 years ago (on what we have now come to call LGBTQ studies, bringing together a very disparate set of texts on religion and related matters), I know how much is left on the proverbial cutting room floor (i.e., left out) and how the struggle to categorize can be frustrating. I sit here and imagine that I can overhear the two editors thinking together about all this. And am grateful. A little jealous, but grateful.
For a review from Oregon, where Roger Porter is an english professor (at Reed College), click here.
I have been a fan of Naomi Duguid's cookbooks for some time, having begun with the gift of Hot, Sour, Salty, Sweet, co-authored with her (now) ex-husband, Jeffrey Alford. I have a few others that either she wrote or they created jointly, on rice and on chinese food.(For my review of the latter, click here.) Unlike some of the cookbooks I own, I cook from them -- especially that first book focused on the various foods along the river that defines much of southeast Asia. I love that book - because my partner found it in Alberta and lugged it back in her baggage on a difficult trip to see family, because we have cooked from it for years, and because. . . . it is a terrific combination of visuals, travel and recipes.(Not to mention sticky stains that shout out about the times we have cooked from it in the past.)
This past year, during holiday season 2016, my partner got me a new Duguid cookbook: A Taste of Persia. Subtitled A Cook's Travels through Armenia, Azerbaijan, Georgia, Iran, and Kurdistan, this new book has already found a place in my heart, helping to define a new period in the making of our home together. There are bits that are familiar; the book brings together travel reflections, beautiful pictures, and recipes. The colors are dazzling. And, there are familiar components of recipes -- I do love pomegranate molasses and we do own a terrific book by Paula Wolfert entitled The Cooking of the Eastern Mediterranean that includes some Georgian foods, for example. I have even eaten at an Iranian restaurant once upon a time at a professional conference.
This book re-inspired me to get in the kitchen, something I rarely do in Chicago and that has been a challenge for me for some time. I have felt unimaginative and uninspired. And yet, this book pushed me along and I have now created several entire meals from it when in Geneva. Here are a few comments on various recipes we have tried:
Soup: There is a notion of New Year's in The Taste of Persia which does not really connect with January 1. Yep, Persian New Year is not January 1. Called Nowruz or norouz, and celebrated this year around March 21, I have a vague memory of Alice Walker at Chez Panisse celebrating Nowruz. (Click here for what I found in trying to figure out if I made this up. And yes, this reminds me to think about all this in relation to Parsi.)
In any case, I took advantage of the pseudo connection and made the New Year's soup that Duguid provides for New Year's Eve or New Year's Day (I cannot recall which). The soup involves the color green -- as in spinach, herbs and beans of various sorts. It also includes noodles -- and I used gluten free linguini. I made it twice. The first time was perfect and the second was kind of awful because I used the left overs from the first time and added that to another batch. As a result, some of the spinach was wildly over cooked and kind of slimy. Do not do that. Here is what it looks like (not my picture) -- it might be Duiguid's but I am at a loss for how it popped up on google. My apologies to the copyright holder.
Rice Dish:
I have now made a kind of Persian herbed rice multiple times. It is absolutely wonderful and because you can use a wide array of herbs, it is not quite the same each time. This is an attempt to reproduce the recipe from memory:
Soak 3 cups of rice (I used basmati) for an hour or two in water.
Rinse rice and boil it for maybe 5-10 minutes maximum.
Drain and cool the rice.
Mix an egg with a few tablespoons of yogurt. Then mix that with a cup or so of rice.
Get out a huge dutch oven and put a few tablespoons of oil and water in the bottom.
Spread the mixture of rice, yogurt and egg on the bottom.
Some time before this chop finely a mixture of herbs -- including scallions, flat parsley (I tried curly -- it just is too dull), cilantro, dill . . . (I always used dill). (The recipe says this ought to be a kind of pyramid shape. Mine is not.)
Alternate layers of rice/herbs, til you get to the top, which should be rice. Then add about 3 Tablespoons of butter in bits into holes in the rice.
Put a towel over the top and then the top of the dutch oven. The goal is to steam the rice.
Steam for about 30 minutes. And then, put the container in about 2-3 inches of cold water in the sink. This is to release the wonderful crusty bottom created by the rice/egg/yogurt mixture as it cooks.
Put it on a plate and serve. And eat it for a few days in various variations.
Th best part of this recipe is the combination of textures, flavors and, to be honest, the crispy bottom. I was kind of unduly proud when the rice came out with such a lovely crispy brown crust on the bottom. Hurrah.
Fesenjan: I had had this once upon a time in the aforementioned Iranian restaurant which was, I think, in San Diego. It consists of a protein in a sauce made of pomegranate molasses and walnuts. And, according to Duguid it can be tart or sweet. There are various aspects of what I have cooked from A Taste of Persia that seem to fit this general description. First, I made a duck fesenjan. It was a kind of peculiar brown color and somewhat tasteless. We think that may have been the age of the pomegranate molasses. But who knows. This was a variant on a recipe for chicken contained in the cookbook.
I also made a sauce which purports to go with fish and is also pomegranate molasses and walnuts -- and it was spectacular. See below.
Fish: We looked at several fish recipes and settled on a simply recipe which involved grilled fish. And no, we did not grill the fish. The first time, we purchased some cod and baked it, setting it on top of a layer of tarragon, drizzled with olive oil, and baking for about 15 minutes or so at around 350 degrees. We served it with the pomegranate seed and cilantro condiment described here (and appearing in the book on the page opposite the grilled fish recipe). We also served it with a condiment from elsewhere in the book, which was made by combining 1/2 cup pomegranate molasses, and 1/2 cup water, and cooking it down for a bit, then adding a cup of walnuts previously pulverized in the food processor.
The second time was used (of all things) thai basil under the fish (a whole red snapper). I stuffed some of the herbs into the cavity of the fish as well. This too made a terrific meal with the condiments described.
In several of these cases there were additional condiments: mint oil and saffron water. Both are easy and wonderful, especially when added to (a) the rice (mix one cup of the parboiled rice with saffron water and sprinkle on top of the other rice for a delightful scent and taste; and (b) both saffron water and mint oil in the soup. And, the cookbook encourages an indiscriminate luxury of herbs.
A failure and some challenges: While I knew some of the mystery ingredients in Duguid's book, I did not know them all. The three main challenges: barberries, chinese celery, and (blue) fenugreek greens. (I have no idea if the latter is the same thing as metthi which is fenugreek as described in Indian cooking. That too I have trouble finding except in Indian groceries.) In any case, the one failure was my attempt to make a green ajika. I was both missing key ingredients (chinese celery) and -- to be frank, this turned out to be inedible. There are 3 jars in the kitchen in Geneva. I have no idea whenI will throw them out.
today, in 2017, perhaps the rise of this book feels a tad political, given the "travel ban" that has been instituted. It was not written for that reason, but as a kind of culinary tourist, it did remind me to think about the real people affected by this xenophobia. There are down sides to food as tourism, of course, but there are also upsides to knowing the world just a tiny bit better.
I am a lucky person. I know that, despite my occasional whining, whinging and . . . depression. I am a lucky person. Today's reason for thinking that? I have not only had the pleasure of meeting Dana Cree (two time James Beard nominated pastry chef) -- but I have eaten her creations both at Blackbird and, once upon a time, a wedding cake at a mutual friend's . . . wedding. (Need I say the wedding cake was the most amazing thing ever, both in appearance and taste? It was much more than a traditional set of layers -- it was a gingerbread sculpture in many many ways -- and both the appearance and the taste layering were amazing. Appearance AND taste -- a not so usual wedding cake review.) And, Dana is nice. Once upon a time my partner and I were at Blackbird, having met her once through that same mutual friend who got married, and a special dessert for my partner (whose capacity to consume gluten is very limited to nonexistent) arrived out of the blue. That dessert was beautiful and tasty and memorable.
Dana is both an inspiring foodie with serious professional chops and more.
Why is she on my mind today (and yes, today is, as always on this blog, a date highly likely to be unrelated to when this blog is posted let alone when you, dear reader, read it!)? Well two reasons: (a) I am procrastinating and (b) I know Dana's book on ice cream is coming to a Chicago location for a book signing April 9 nor to mention a March 28 event. Hmmm. (Planning to go, bibliochef? If I get there I will do a blog entry friends!) Having had a very intriguing conversation about ice cream with Dana at the aforementioned wedding, I am really interested in reading (and maybe even using) her book. The conversation bridged science, practicalities of a business, and the question of why ice cream intrigues Dana. It made me want to go on learning from her.
I might order the book. Indeed, I might. Meanwhile, a few articles on Dana appear below and one video -- and I am back to what I was avoiding by doing this entry:
Am I the last person in the Chicago area to "discover" velvet tacos? Am I finally deciding I live here, right as I start the process of not living here, and so looking for cheap eats?
Hmm.
Velvet Tacos (of Chicago) is located right near where I get my hair (very occasionally) cut at 1110 North State Street in Chicago. It is also near a Barnes and Noble I go to when in that direction. The place is somewhere between a hole in the wall and a kind of hip joint, with inexpensive tacos and frozen margaritas in what seems to be a cross between a fast food joint and . . . Let me put it this way: you walk to the front, place your order, pay and they call your name and you pick up what you ordered. And, you happily -- very happily -- eat what you ordered.
It was mid-day when I did this -- and yes, I ordered a margarita which was a slushy and more alcoholic than I had expected. I also ordered one of the #8 (pork) tacos and an order of one of my favorite things -- elote. The taco involved annatto shredded pork, avocado cream, quest fresco and a hibiscus corn tortilla. (I still don't know what that means about the taco.) The elote was imperfect, but good. If you have no idea what elote is, you should immediately find out. Once upon a time, I had no idea there was a name for corn on the cob schmeared with a kind of mixture of quest fresco or cojita and chili and lime. Nor did I know that sometimes it comes in a bowl with the corn kernels fresh and yellow. And, I had no idea that I would think it was one of the best foods in the world. Now I know. Now you know.
Near me, I heard a conversation coming out of a youngish mouth (college age?) in which someone said they brought their mother there and she just did not get it. I would guess her mother is younger than I am.
I, on the other hand, get it. And not because I am hip. I am not. I am simply someone who likes good cheap food. And that was what I got. I will go back. I have no idea if I will ever order any of the more "globally inspired" tacos (like chicken tikka) but I will go back.
Here's the menu. And, by the way, who knew that there were such places in Austin, Dallas, Fort Worth and Houston. I wonder if they are as good as this one, in the Windy City. I hope so, given that it is a Texas chain that only opened in Chicago in 2015.
So, International Women's Day has been a thing for a long time, especially if you live in a bi-national household as I do. It has a truly lefty history, and I even met someone in Whole Foods yesterday (who turned out to be from Poland) who was buying flowers for his wife and mother for International Women's Day.
This year, the date is getting unusual attention (the attention it has always deserved) across the US -- yes, something the date and related issues should have been receiving all along. Why? Perhaps obviously, in response to the current political situation. Women are striking (enough that some school districts are closing), people are wearing red, and either not spending dollars or urging that they be spent in women-owned or women-led organizations. Some are giving those who work for them a paid day off. Others raised dollars to support any lost wages for women on this date. The strike is not as visible as the Women's Marches of earlier this year, but in some ways are a more important marker.
I have chosen not to strike (I almost wrote I cannot but that is not accurate). I am wearing red. And I am not shopping. I am ambivalent about not striking, feeling guilty. But I am not.
What are you doing? What are you eating? How are you honoring yourself and the women you know on this date? How can we show not only how important women are to the economy but continue to push out the notion of women's rights as human rights, recognizing the many ways women of color, poor women of all hues, and even women who think that women's rights are bogus are critical to our worlds, and that every woman and girl, cis or transgendered, comes into this world deserving to be recognized as fully human?
You ask: does this belong on Cooking With Ideas? Yes. In my view, this all about food, as is this blog. It is about literal access to food, the many ways women are the carriers of food culture, the ways food insecurity disproportionately affects some, the gendered (and raced and classed) qualities of fine dining, and much more. And, given my love for cozy mysteries, this is about the ways that kind of literature is gendered as well.
Please comment away.
And, fight the good fight however you choose to today, ensuring that tomorrow and every day thereafter, those around you know that women's rights are human rights and that we are all interlaced in a global community with the women striking across the planet.
I opened a book today, because I am a bit . . . sad and frustrated and tired. And there it was, a poem not for me. Very much not for me. But perhaps it is for you. And it definitely taught me something.
One of my household rituals when I arrive in upstate NY involves a trip to Kindred Fare a restaurant in Geneva, NY which opened some time ago. Located right along Rte 5 and 20, and away from the lake front, the restaurant is very surprising in ambience, and edibles. In the latter regard, both food and drink hit is out of the park. While gossip has it that the current chef (Samantha Buyskes) is on her way out, the purveyors of those same rumors say that a new chef is being sought "at a national level." We can only hope as the loss of
Let me elaborate -- even though this review may point a bit toward what is soon to be the past.
Ambience:
I had low expectations of Kindred Fare when I first visited -- though reports had been good. Why? Because of its location. Frankly, I have stayed at a few too many motels or hotels on a main highway and tried out the nearby food. Typically, that food has been pedestrian at best and awful all too often. I assumed this was because the foot traffic would be predictable enough and the engagement temporary enough that, well, the food and ambience could be low quality. Kindred Fare is in a building that is a bit like a strip mall and there is absolutely nothing to look at nearby. (Well, parking lots?) And, to be honest, the hype I was hearing was a bit unbelievable. I was wrong.
Stepping through the (somewhat too large) doorway changed my mind and raised my expectations. While I have seen the design before, with a center bar, an open kitchen, and lots of restored to rustic wood, it was not what I expected in that corner of Geneva. Small tables, a reasonable auditory situation (aka good acoustics and not too loud), and apt lighting. Hmmm, I thought. Not perfect, but above expectations. The aesthetic seems kind of country, while the location is kind of semi-urban. And, the underlying theme is welcome with a tiny soupçon of region.
Kindred Fare, reportedly, is an ok place to eat alone at the bar. (I have eaten at the bar -- but only with my partner.) And, it has a reasonably big dining room so that if you see someone you know you can wave and then either engage them or happily ignore them.
In a return to the early days of this blog, when we had an anonymous bathroom reviewer, I would note that the bathrooms are few but tidy, and the soap quite nice.
Food:
I have never had a thing at Kindred Fare that was not tasty and on the edge of surprising. The ingredients are, where possible, local or regional -- and they are put to good use in both novel and trendy ways. Yes, everyone has brussel sprouts or kale salads (or both) these days and Thomas Keller reminded us that fried chicken is a good thing. I am (continuing on my theme of surprise) quite happy to say that Kindred Fare simply has good food.
The Fried Chicken comes in two piece and four piece portions and . . . is quite amazingly good whether consumed fully at the restaurant or a few days later while scrounging in the fridge. It comes with a few spicy pickles (I want more), and add on sides (have I yet spoken to the wonder of their french fries, with salt and rosemary?). The crispiness: perfect. The meat: tender and juicy. IN this instance I would not get the macaroni and cheese side dish. (Not everything is perfect at Kindred Fare.)
I have I admit, witnessed other entrees -- and may even have eaten some of them. But: the fried chicken is memorable.
Salads: In the many times I have been at Kindred Fare, I have often shared a salad. Some are more like "traditional" salads (whatever that means), including their kale caesar, while others are less traditional including their excellent pea salad, a terrific brussel sprouts dish, and more recently a pear and parsnip "salad." The latter was a bit more like roasted vegetables, and the various bits varied in their edibility (in fact some were hard enough as to be impossible to consume). And yet, I would order it again.
Desserts: Unusually, Kindred Fare is not a place where I end to have dessert. This is because I tend to be full when the time arrives. On occasion, I have had ice cream and I can particularly recommend an odd one called mistletoe. I leave it to your imagination when it was served and what the combination of tastes was (not to mention the color).
Drinks: Kindred Fare does highlight a range of liquid refreshments. In addition to a limited selection of nonalcoholic possibilities, they have notable wine, beer and cocktail possibilities. I admit it -- I have had no beer at Kindred Fare. I do, though, want to emphasize that they provide a good selection of local beers (aka flx beers). On wine: On cocktails: Here my capacities as a reviewer come to the fore as I tend to drink cocktails these days. Among those I have tried -- springtime for lafayette, medicine & morality, brooklyn bourbon old-fashioned, for example - the bartender's combination of astute mixology and balance of classic and contemporary approaches -- well, I would go to Kindred Fare for a cocktail only experience. Definitely well done.
And, I have to say": as a fan of Dinner Party Download, I was surprised to hear that the cocktail Medicine and Morality was. . . cleated by Brian as a response to one of their history lessons -- devoted to Elizabeth Blackwell. As you may know, Blackwell went to medical school in Geneva, NY, at a place which some say eventually became Hobart College. You can find the particular episode here and the drink recipe here. Kindred Fare makes its own buckwheat cordial (and yes, upstate NY is known for buckwheat) and the area does have some lovely gins, though this particular drink calls for aged Genever instead.
Also notable: the bartenders and waiters are well educated when it comes not only to the food they are serving but also the wines, beers and cocktails. There is no corkage fee on Mondays, which attracts a range of local wineries and others to use Kindred Fare as a gathering place to try one another wines and . . . rest and recuperate from the hard work of wine production.
Location and Contact: 512 Hamilton Street, Geneva, NY 14456; phone: 315-787-0400
