Strip-Mall Upstate Indian Joint Far Exceeds Expectations: Karavalli

Today was a long travel day, with an awkward lunchtime in the food desert that is Atlanta Hartsfield-Jackson Terminal B. So, the moment we landed, my phone was out, and I was scrolling through Zomato looking for a place to get some dinner.

Karavalli showed a high ranking for what looked like run of the mill strip mall Indian place on the edge of town. The web site did not increase my confidence. I went for it anyway, and I'm glad I did.

The space is pretty, modest and spotlessly clean - sky blue walls and a darker blue ceiling giving it a bit more of a cozy feeling than it could otherwise have, but this is not a space transformed. Chef? Yes. Interior Design Firm? Not so much. Local awards line one wall, and a grid of tightly packed tables - about 20 altogether- take up the center.

The menu is enormous and tends more toward Southern Indian dishes than I am used to seeing - they are known for their dosas, and I will personally attest to the awesomeness of their iddli.

I didn't go in intending to make a post. I didn't even bring my camera. But the way the meal rolled was just so memorable, and so on point, it seemed a waste not to say something about it.

Starting with iddli. I haven't had these for years. So many years that when they came out, I didn't actually remember how to eat them (thank you Google for telling me, and thank you restaurant for being crowded enough to hide the shame of me looking up how to eat my food online). The rice cakes were soft and mild, with just a tiny tang, and they sopped up the flavor from the chutney and the sambar beautifully. Passing along the benefit of my research for others - the key to eating iddli is to break off a piece and dip it in to the sauce of your choosing. Apparently it's pretty gauche to eat it with fork. I ate it with a fork anyway.

Naan and Chicken Mali Kabob followed. Both were spectacular. The kabob is served fajita style (yes, I live in Austin, sorry food world, that's just how I see it), sizzling on a cast iron dish with onions and lemon. Each piece was tender, seared and charred just at the corners. Those corners, with the onion, also a little charred, and the lemon. Oh man. It was chicken done right.

Naan was loftier and richer than any I've had recently, heavy on the butter, which is not a bad thing at all. There were also lentils - delish - and rice - which I have to admit, I just couldn't bring myself to touch. I've got nothing against rice, but there was just too much delicious going on to add something bland.

I walked into a relatively empty Kavallali at about 6. When I left, an hour later, the place was abuzz - more than half the tables full on a Monday evening, the servers efficient and crisp, the place loud but not overpowering. It was a place that would have exceeded even high expectations, made even more magical for it's appearance at the end of a day spent on airplanes.

Lunch Counter Reinvented in Raleigh: Poole's

Poole's is a loud joint. It's not easy to find, not great for kids not easy to manage for big groups. It's not fancy - countertops in weathered formica, menus on chalk boards on the wall.

What it is is fabulous.

The menus are in chalk because they are constantly in flux, new items pop up as the produce of the day comes in. The worn formica sits on top of of a classic mid-century lunch-counter double horseshoe, like the Camillia in New Orleans.

Bruschetta

Fried Green Tomatos

This is a place imagined by someone who loves food, loves Raleigh, and who has found a way to breathe life into this lost place on the edge of downtown.  Freshness comes through front and center on the menu. Seasonings are minimal and on point - lemon and olive oil on perfectly fresh bibb lettuce; cornmeal on intensely juicy quarters of fried green tomato. Everything is bright and crisp - more green tomato and less fried. In more complex dishes, Poole's shows a deft hand with balance and flavor. The roasted pork belly had a soft bite that was rich without the chewy fat that often comes across when places swap out pork belly for bacon to spruce up a menu.

Pork Belly over Lentil Stew

Ashley Christensen - the woman behind this place and a handful of others in the Research Triangle won the James Beard award for best chef in the Southeast in 2014. Poole's is good enough to be successful in any market anywhere, but it is connected at its roots to the place where it lives.

St. Philip: Doing Everything Well

I’ve been to St. Philip for date nights with my wife, for dinner with the kids, for a happy hour snack on the patio, even for a quick lunch. They do everything well - the place is beautiful, the food consistent and delicious, the service phenomenal. Even waiting for a table on the cleverly designed patio is a treat. The entire space is light, airy and open - modern and trendy but in a  friendly, accessible way. Years ago, this place was a plant nursery, and in St. Philip a little of that feel comes through.

Pizza is what this place is about, and pizzas are awfully good. My favorite from the early days - lox and capers - is sadly no longer on the menu, but the remaining pizzas, if a little more predicatable are still worth the trip. Standouts are the fennel sausage and the meatball pies, both of which are rich and savory, bringing out the best in the simple tomato sauce. Both are improved with the addition of field greens, the one major option for pizzas on the menu.

As good as they are, pizzas are not the best thing they do. Golden Cauliflower, over tangy yogurt with raisins and pumpkin seeds is a revelation and always flawless. The chicken and funnel cake is everything chicken and waffles wishes it could be - unflinching in the combination of sweet and savory. The house-made burrata is as soft and silky as any I've ever had. The carrot and avocado salad is exceptional with carrots roasted to a soft bite that compliments the crunch of the granola, the bright greens, and the simply dressed avocado. Just about everything on this menu sings.

Golden Cauliflower

Chicken and Funnel Cake

Burrata and Lavash

Carrot and Avocado

The only disappointment for me is the weekend brunch - and it's really only disappointing next to the sky-high standard I'd begun to expect for the place. The house-smoked lox in Smoked Salmon sandwich was lovely, but was overpowered by the amount of herbed cream cheese. The brisket in the Smoked Brisket sandwhich a little too fatty, the Pancetta sliced too thick for the little sandwich I had it on. Smores Waffles and Brulee French Toast however are amazeballs, skirting that lovely line between breakfast and dessert. The brunch menu is evolving even as I write this post. I have no doubt that it'll be better the next time I go.

Exit Through the Bakeshop is the running gag throughout the restaurant and it works - the bakeshop is a clever little addition at the far end of the dining room. The confections in the cases in front of the enormous wood burning oven are both creative and beautiful. Opinions on taste are mixed. I am an apologetic sugar addict, and I find the desserts not always as sweet or flavorful as I'd like. Friends without such a sweet tooth swear by them.

In fourth grade, my teacher assigned us all to come up with an adjective to describe ourselves starting with the same letter as our last name. My classmates were Excellent, Fast, Strong, Perfect. And then it was my turn, and I proudly chose Competent Castro. The teacher looked at me with pity in her eyes; she assured me that just to be competent was not much of a aspiration at all. I tried to explain that to be competent was the best thing you could be, it meant that you could do everything, and that you could do everything well. She was not convinced. If St. Philip was in Grand Rapids, MI in the 80s, I'd have just pointed to the place and said - "this is what I mean."

St. Philip does everything well, and some things extraordinarily well. It is not the best pizza in town, or the best patio, or the most gracious service; but it is the only place I know that is so nearly the best in so many different ways. When I said I wished for competence back all those years ago, this is precisely what I meant.

24 Hours in Brooklyn

I got to spend a day in Brooklyn this week. Just the one day, and though it was for work, I found myself with enough time to wander off and get my hands on some mighty tasty food.

Little Sweet Café

77 Hoyt St, Brooklyn, NY

I started out the Little Sweet Café, which is, in fact, a little, sweet café. Seats 8, maybe 10 if you’re under 5, as were many of the patrons. This is a Neighborhood Place. Allow me to illustrate:

1. As we walked in, the man (young, beard, fleece) sitting at the table nearest to the counter was pulling out his wallet to pay. He found he had only a few dollars cash and said to the one-man-show running the place, “hey man, I don’t have any cash – I’ll just pay with a credit card” to which one-man-show replied “nah, don’t worry about, you pay me tomorrow.”
2. Just after we sat down it started to fill up, which is to say, two moms, kids in tow, came in. They knew each other. That was not the impressive thing. The impressive thing was that one-man-show quickly deposited a slice in of almond brioche in front of the kid at the table next to us saying “it was my last piece – I didn’t want you to go without”

Little Sweet does three things – coffee, pastries, and crepes. Each was good. Not earth shattering, toe curling good, but really solidly legit stuff. I had the almond brioche (the second-to-the-last piece, apparently) and it was light and eggy, sweet without being syrupy. My coworker (both of us beardless and in sport coats, looking very clearly like intruders) had a crepe – simple and hearty, full of fresh veggies and nicely wilted spinach. Flavor in everything was understated and simple. 

Blue Bottle Coffee

85 Dean St, Brooklyn, NY

My next stop was at Blue Bottle. I know, I know, Blue Bottle belongs on the West Coast, but I knew they had come in pretty full force to Brooklyn and it was only a few blocks from my hotel. The pour over was amazing – just their house blend, but tons of bright flavor – the paper cup was a drag, but even in the paper notes of cinnamon and balsa wood came through beautifully. The latte (I was getting a little wired by this point, but I had to give it a go) was silky and beautiful, but didn’t have the same oomph as the coffee.

Shake Shack

409 Fulton St, Brooklyn, NY

Lunch was Shake Shack. Since they’re coming to Austin next month I thought I’d give them a whirl. I had modest expectations. It exceeded them. The burger had a nice crumble to it, the bun was a little sweet and exquisitely squishy, the special sauce (I never get special sauce, but I figured I should do it like it was supposed to be done) was actually amazing. I have no idea what it was, but it was sharp and creamy at the same time and did a great job tying it all together. The fries were OK. On the Austin scale, I put it ahead of Mighty Fine and behind Hop Doddy. Worth a visit, not worth a long wait in line.

Sotto Casa

298 Atlantic Ave, Brooklyn, NY

Dinner was Sotto Casa. I’m kicking myself for not taking a photo while I was there, but the pictures on the site do not exaggerate. So much like Little Sweet, this was neighborhood through and through, full of kids, and unflinchingly European. There are half a dozen salads and maybe 15 different pizzas. Pizzas are all super thin crust, maybe 14 inches, enough for 2, especially if you get a salad. The food was phenomenal, with kind of clarity of flavor you get from ultra-simple recipes. The salad was arugula dressed with salt, olive oil and lemon. The pizza was eggplant, tomato, fresh mozzarella. It was real food, unadorned, beautiful.

Food in New York is omnipresent. I could have done this routine for a month and had a different cup of coffee each day, a different breakfast, a different little hole in the wall Italian place. I love NY.

Cuvee Coffee Revolution

Cuvee has been in the revolution business since the late 80s, from the massively hacked vintage drum roasters at their Spicewood headquarters to the hot rod La Marzocco espresso machines they've rigged up at local shops to the kegs of Black and Blue nitrogenated cold brew coffee that are showing up at venue after venue.

And now they've got a killer little coffee shop all the way down East 6th that's charting a new path for how coffee gets made.

The bar is a long, enclosed island with coffee along the front side and beer (once the permits come through) around back. That long coffee counter is the first revolution. You don't step up to the register, pay, and wait for your drink to pop out the other end. Instead, you shepherd your coffee through the process. Start out with the cup - 2, 4, 8, 12 ounces. Then choose your espresso. Choose your milk. Get your drink. Pay. It's Freebirds for your coffee.

It's different, but it's anything but complicated. The second revolution is the simplicity of the whole deal. There are no cortados or cappuccinos or macchiatos or flat whites or lattes. There is just espresso, coffee and milk. That's it. And really that's the way it's always been everywhere, it's just no one has really fessed up to it - all those drinks are just different names for proportions of the same two things. Sometime in the early 90s some clever folks up in Seattle fancified coffee. Cuvee took it back to words that make sense.

The third revolution is the espresso machine. Or lack thereof. Just two sculpted chrome arms extending from the counter top and a barista ready to walk you through the process. The plumbing and control is all under the counter.Why erect a two foot wall between the person that's doing the drinking and the person that's pulling the shot? It's a little thing, but it goes a long way to bring you closer than you've ever been to your espresso without pulling it yourself. Mod Bar for the win.

It goes without saying that the coffee is amazing - the pour over is the best I've had anywhere, and while the drink-formerly-known-as-latte was not the most beautiful I've seen, it was silky soft and rich. Meritage has been Cuvee's go-to Espresso blend for the better part of the last decade, and it's lovely and balanced. This espresso without bite, but with an earthy, woody depth that goes on a good long while.

Cuvee isn't a coffee shop where you and your laptop go for the afternoon to escape the loud guy in the cube next to you. It's way too alive for that. This is a place you go to drink coffee, to connect with friends, and to play.

 

Grad School. They are Like Mushrooms.

They pop up like mushrooms after a heavy rain. In every city big enough to sport a Starbucks, there has risen a food-obsessed, local-inspired, heavily tattooed, sticker-adorned, farm to table establishment with clusters of young people spilling out onto patios and front benches. Done well, they are lovely. And Grad School, in a far corner of the blip of downtown of Springfield, MO, is done well.

On the continuum between well-funded subway-tiled newcomers and the ramshackle joints one gust of wind away from a pile of rubble, Grad School is one of the dives. This is a place where all of the stickers covering the soda machine are covered with stickers, and all of those are covered with a slight sheen of grease from fryer. It's a tiny restaurant, with one long room holding the open kitchen, a couple of bar stools and a handful of tiny high tops; a little back room with two sets of vinyl booths; and one long table out on the patio. Everything is narrow enough that navigation is an art. At 2:00 in the afternoon on a Saturday it was still packed, and there was still a wait.

The reason was clear. It's impossible to go to Grad School and not smile. Everyone is happy. The food is dead-on target. The chairs don't match.

A couple of high points.

The pesto vinaigrette on the house salad. A place this greasy is not supposed to have things this green. It was perfectly dressed and backyard garden level fresh.

The french fries. Nothing fancy just skin on, crispy, hand cut brilliant fries. They were amazing when they came out piping hot. They were amazing 15 minutes later when lesser fries would have wilted into sadness.

The soft cheddar on the Full Ride. Don't bite into this thinking it's a typical cheese burger. The soft cheddar melts into more of a lush sauce than a gooey bit of cheese. But it's dynamite. Sharp and silky and a perfect foil for the double burger. Not for the faint of heart.

The why-the-hell-not touches on the dishes, like the decorative swash of sriracha on the Micah's chicken. This is a delicious little quasi-asian sort of sesame chicken and rice number, and it's presentation was full on fancy. It was kind of brilliant next to the giant plastic Pepsi Cola cups we were drinking out of.

Low points were few and far between. It took a while for the food to come - but it was a happy while - and the jerk chicken was not quite up to the brilliance of the other plates (though the bits of pineapple were  genius). And they should maybe dust the ceiling fans.

 

Dolce Neve - Fresh Snow on South First

As a kid growing up in West Michigan, I used to ski occasionally at a spot not far from my house. I thought it was the best downhill skiing anywhere. Then I moved to the Sangre de Cristo mountains in New Mexico - fresh powder covering peaks above the tree-line -  and discovered what actual downhill skiing was. Dolce Neve is like moving to the mountains. You think you've been eating gelato all this time, but it turns out you haven't. This is what gelato is supposed to be.

Walking through the bright pink front door, under the front-porch arbor, you're immediately engaged. The warmth of the people that run this place is so pervasive you almost feel like you've stumbled into the kitchen at an old friend's house. There's a substantial amount of chrome, but there's also weathered wood, mismatched chairs and a wide open kitchen. The effect is charming - homey but precise, with ample style but without pretension. This openness is part of what makes things work here - they really do do it in front of everyone, going back to raw ingredients (often locally sourced) and preparing them every step of the way.

Walk up to the counter, but don't order yet. You can't possibly know what you want. Try a few first. Try the Cassata if they have it - where the orange zings through the creamy countered against the dark chocolate. Or the Whiskey Pecan, which is such a balanced mix of flavors it kind of makes you wonder how people ate pecan ice cream without whiskey before. Or the Dolce Neve (It means fresh snow in Italian), where the slight kick of lemon zest livens up the sweet cream. It's like a playground in there, and it's important to try out all the swings.

The small size is ridiculously inexpensive, and is about as much gelato as I could hold. As is traditional with gelato you can mix whatever you'd like into that cup. I think the standard is two flavors, but I'd imagine Leo would let you go with three if you wanted. He not only graciously accommodated my kid's request for the gelato in a cup with a cone, he explained to her that in Milan, they called that a Pinocchio, because the cone looks just like Pinocchio's cap.

South First keeps getting better - Sugar Mamas got a little bigger and (I didn't think this could happen) a little better. Once Over has settled in even deeper and the patio feels even further from the middle of town than it did. Elizabeth Street Cafe is still making my favorite breakfast in town. And now Dolce Neve. I can't think of a better stretch of food, anywhere.

Houndstooth Coffee Class: How to Make Iced Coffee That Doesn't Suck

Houndstooth has stood out in the ever-growing Austin coffee scene for its constant innovation. They were the first to offer different brewing methods by the cup, the first to go with a rotating selection of roasters, the first to set up real coffee education programs, and the first to go major retail with the best selection of home coffee equipment anywhere in town.

Houndstooth is also the place I learned to make good iced coffee. I had written off iced coffee a few decades ago, based on the bitter, weak stuff my dad used to drink out on the porch on summer afternoons. All through my coffee-loving years, all good coffee has been hot, even if all hot coffee has not been good.

Until now.

About 12 of us filed into Houndstooth's swanky new digs in the Frost Bank Building right after they closed for the afternoon. Daniel Read, the manager of coffee education (really, they have a manager of coffee education), walked us through some solid basics. Before we start with the process, though, some basic things you need, and one of thing that you don't maybe need exactly, but will make your life much better if you have it.

Things you need:

1. Coffee Maker. We used Clevers in the class, at home I use Chemex or Hario pour-overs. French Press also good. All inexpensive.
2. Good Coffee. My all time and forever favorite is Cuvee, a roaster just outside of Austin.
3. A kitchen scale. My favorite is from OXO, and it's less than $30.

The one single thing that will make it even better:

1. A grinder. My favorite is from Baratza - the Encore. Basic, as far as grinders though, and while it's not exactly cheap (about $130), you make it up pretty quick once you stop buying anything starting with the words "iced venti...". Fresh ground coffee is massively better than not-fresh-ground coffee. Massively.

And once you have those things, how to make great coffee (iced or hot) comes down to this: .06.

.06 units of coffee for 1 unit of water. A cup of coffee is about 300 grams of water - multiply by .06, and it comes out to 18 grams of coffee. No more messing around with tablespoons, no more guessing. Just .06.

What does this have to do with iced coffee, you may ask?

Turns out, you make iced coffee just the same way you make hot coffee, only substituting 100 grams of ice cubes for 100 grams of the water. Easy.

Here's how we made it in class, and how I now make it at home:

1. Heat the water. I use an electric kettle. You want water that's in the high 190s, temperature-wise. Easiest way to get there - boil the water, take it off the heat, wait 30 seconds.
2. While the water is heating, grind the beans (medium grind for the pour-overs, coarse for the french press), and measure out 18 grams.
3. If you're using anything with a paper filter, set it all up without the coffee and pour a little water through to rinse the filter, dumping out the water that runs through.
4. Set your brewing set up on the scale, add the coffee, and zero out the scale again.
5. Add 200 grams of water.
6. Take the resulting hot steamy concentrated coffee, and pour over 100 grams of ice.

And that's it! At this point, the coffee may still be a little warm - I usually wait right up until the moment I'm going to drink it, pour it over a cup full of ice, and slurp it down before the ice has much of a chance to melt.

Still in the mood for iced coffee, but not up for the hassle? Two options for you:

1. Head down to Houndstooth. Go up the counter. Order an iced coffee.
2. Start with a cold-brewed option (locally brewed Chameleon Coffee is my favorite), pop it open, pour over copious amounts of ice, and go.

And there it is: Iced coffee that doesn't even remotely suck.