ESPN Zone, Baltimore

Those of you who know me personally may wonder how I ended up in the ESPN Zone anyway, not being a sports fan of any kind. Suffice is to say it wasn't my pick, nor would it be again.
I think if you are going to a restaurant to watch TV, then the quality of the food isn't necessarily your primary concern. Judging from the crowd inside, I see the masses confirm my hunch. Although the food at the ESPN Zone wasn't terrible, there was nothing I could get excited about either.
I did enjoy the onion rings that were on special, despite the queasy feeling I had afterward from their grease content. But who ever heard of a healthy onion ring? So those were within bounds. My son enjoyed the buffalo wings. They were so spicy, the steam rising off of them made your eyes water. My friend's chicken avocado wrap seemed misnamed. With that little avocado, perhaps avocado shouldn't have been in the name of it. My pesto pizza was fine, but noting to rave about.

ESPN apparently isn't taking any risks with their beef. I had considered a burger when I was walking in. Their menu, however, indicated that they only cook their burgers and steaks well done. I guess I could understand not cooking a steak rare, but the only option was well done. The waitress insisted it would still be juicy. I wasn't risking it. Their elimination of choice irritated me.

Perhaps it was just me. It was a beautiful sunny day and I felt like we were in a cave. I noticed most of the men in the restaurant were vacantly staring at the millions of TV screens. I would certainly not recommend it for a place to have any meaningful conversation. But if you want the wings and the game, then this is just the place for you.

Blue Ribbon Bakery

I could live on Downing Street in New York's West Village just to eat more meals at the Blue Ribbon Bakery. My party arrived at the end of the lunch crowd and were quickly seated by the window in a rustic booth with a cutting board style table. Our cutie-pie waiter, Casey, greeted us quickly and apprised us of a few menu changes. The bread basket with a crusty white bread, a rye and an olive flat bread quickly threatened to sabotage our appetites.

I ordered a glass of the New Zealand Savignon Blanc and surveyed the youthful crowd in the bistro. I caught the eye of a gray-haired waiter that would be played by John Malkovich in the movie version of his life story. The window booth was not only decorated with boxes of geraniums and rosemary, but it provided a perfect view for people-watching.

Based on Casey's recommendation I ordered the Mushroom Ginger Broth, which he generously offered to divide into two bowls so I could share with my teenage daughter, and the Hummus Platter, one of his favorites. Casey was so charming and the bread and wine was so delicious that I wasn't even irritated when the food came out before the soup. I'm sure it would have been wonderful, but I canceled the order with the hopes of ordering dessert instead.

The couscous and iceberg salads that accompanied the hummus and freshly made pita were fabulous. I tasted my friend's smoked salmon sandwich. We agreed that the sweet raisin bread made an interesting contrast to the savory salmon. My daughter wiped her grilled chicken ceasar bowl clean.

I'm so glad I saved room for dessert. I ordered the Kona coffee and considered the grapefruit sorbet, but decided to give my diet some time off. Instead I selected the Banana Walnut Bread Pudding and my daughter the Chocolate Bruno. I was in epicurean ecstasy. The chocolate was so rich and the caramel sauce on the bread pudding so mouthwatering that I wished I hadn't eaten all that bread earlier.

Despite my fullness, we still crossed the street for the bakery after our meal. I selected a couple of flatbreads to enjoy later and was easily convinced to sample the Blue Ribbon honeys. It was a difficult choice, but I opted for the Tuscan orange blossom variety. Even the next morning, the breads were delicious.

Russian Samovar

Walking in the rain at eleven o'clock, the soft light and piano music coming from the Russian Samovar on 52nd Street right off Broadway was too enticing to pass up. Just the name of the restaurant sounded warm. A cup of steaming tea was just what my friend and I and my teenage daughter needed after a day in New York. We were certainly not disappointed.

As we entered, the owner welcomed us from behind the bar. We took a seat at a table close to the white grand piano at the end of the dark wooden bar. The waitress greeted us and gave us menus to consider while she set up her tray with hot glasses of tea served with lemon and cherry preserves.

I noticed their long list of flavor infused vodkas before I realized that they did the infusing themselves. In tapped glass jars behind the bar were about a dozen vats of vodka. For something completely different, I selected the coriander vodka, which seemed to please the waitress. I learned, after my first taste of the vodka, that coriander is the seed of the cilantro plant. I love cilantro in dozens of dishes. I could not, however, drink it in my vodka. I tried. I even poured in on ice. The waitress seemed disappointed with me.

“The coriander is...special,” she explained in a Russian accent. I wondered if she was hesitating on the word “special” because English was not her native tongue or because she was searching for the precise euphemism for “too-authentic-for-a-suburban-tourist.” I decided it must be the former and ordered instead something safe, the cranberry. I asked about the hat on the coriander vodka keg. She explained that it was a hat from the Soviet Army. The cranberry was perfect.

We did our best not to fill up on the crusty dark bread while waiting for our borscht and mushroom soups to arrive. When the door opened to admit another patron, the damp wind blew the red fringe on the lamps illuminating the tables. I was glad for the tea and vodka. Nearby a table of 20-somethings argued amiably in thick accents with a limited range of American expletives. Further back in the restaurant a table of business men repeatedly clicked small glasses of vodka together. I felt like I was further from home than New York.

Another blond waitress with a Russian accent delivered our first steaming course. The silver on her Vegas t-shirt glittered under our red lamp. My friend's Porcini mushroom and barely soup was an earthy ambrosia. My pungent borscht was served with a scrumptious meat pirozhok that I reluctantly shared with my teenager.

She made up for it later by sharing her beef stroganoff. I had to pull the menu back out to find more information on the beef. It was so tender that you barely had to chew. I thought maybe it was veal, but apparently it was just a great cut of quality beef cooked perfectly.

My friend's seafood blini in a sour cream saffron sauce was delicious. I regretted the earlier bread basket when I realized how full I was getting halfway through my mouthwatering wild mushroom vol-au-vent. Although it was savory, the pastry made me feel like I was eating dessert. It was fabulous.

You can read more about the Russian Samovar at their website. For example, I learned there that Mikhail Baryshnikov is an investor in the restaurant. They have had quite a few famous guests, although we saw no celebrities near midnight on a rainy Wednesday. That's OK. The temporary transport to Russia was a delicious adventure.
http://www.russiansamovar.com

New York City

I am having a delightful time in New York City with my daughter and my friend. We have eaten at two wonderful places so far. The first was lunch yesterday at the Blue Ribbon Bakery on Downing Street. It was nearly perfect. Delicious food, warm, charming food, and fresh baked breads. Delectable!

Late last night we feasted at the Russian Samovar on our way back from the theater. It was so interesting and unique in its ethnicity. The food was both delicate and savory. The service was Russian too.

I have pictures and many details to share, but right now I'm still in New York. We're leaving this afternoon, so we are hurrying to get some shopping in.

I promise you pictures!