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Notes from the Weekend: June 20
Notes from the Weekend is a Monday feature that sees the members of Team Meal Ticket compiling all the food/drink highlights uncovered during prime eatin' time, Friday to Sunday.
Notes from the Weekend: June 20
Notes from the Weekend is a Monday feature that sees the members of Team Meal Ticket compiling all the food/drink highlights uncovered during prime eatin' time, Friday to Sunday. Consider this a place for good deals, great dishes, wicked cocktails, recipe triumphs (and tragedies), bizarro conversations and more. We're eager to share our notes, but especially excited to read yours.We encourage you to leave notes from YOUR weekend in the comments. Have at it! (View past NFTW installments at citypaper.net/notes.)
Adam Erace: AE
Drew Lazor: DL
Pie for breakfast? When it's Marshall Green's strawberry-rhubarb absofuckinlutely. Saw this slice, a fave from way back, in the glass case at Cafe Estelle (444 N. Fourth St.) on Friday morning and had to make it mine. Green calibrates the warm, mauve filling to a beautiful point between sweet and sour, and his pastry crust is buttery, flaky and just a little salty. Oh, I also had shirred eggs with toast and home fries. And the rest of my brother's bacon pancakes. Fat morning. —AE
I spent most of this weekend in Beantown to celebrate the beautiful nuptials of Friends of Meal Ticket LP and GT (now GP, I guess?). In between gratuitously quoting the worst bits of dialogue from The Town ("Deah Claya ... ") and avoiding direct eye contact with blackout-drunk Bruins fans ("We gawt the Cup bro!"), I managed to eat at a few good spots. Late lunch on Friday at B&G Oysters, Boston megachef Barbara Lynch's neighborhood shuckerie. (The sign helped us locate it.) Not much of a crowd, which helped us get our raw dozen, cornmeal-crusted fluke over farro (bangin!) and softshell/haricot verts/brekkie radish setup that much faster. Sweet service too, from a waitress M insisted looked like Katy Perry. I said Robin Tunney from The Craft. We get into these types of arguments like four to six times a day. —DL
Busted a move to the Shore for dinner Friday night at the new Luke Palladino outpost in Harrah's (777 Harrah's Blvd.). Told ya about it way back, remember? Palladino, who looks like Ralph Macchio, was in the house, expo-ing while a camera crew wandered around the glossy black-and-white room. Highlights included corn-and-ricotta-stuffed squash blossoms (summer!) and burrata ravs. Fun to see tonic and Cynar, the Italian digestivo distilled from artichokes (among other botanicals), on the cocktail menu, but still wondering why it was served straight up. Waiter, an old-fashioned glass and some rocks, per favore. —AE
Friday, the groom's side threw a rehearsal dinner at the cozy, subterranean Grotto, where I drank way too much wine and got a dope bottle of Johnnie Walker Gold Centenary Blend as a groomsmen's gift. (Is is wrong that I've been thinking about cracking it since I got to work at 9 this morning? I definitely have a problem? Whatever, I only do it on the weekends so I can write Notes from the Weekend.) Grotto's food was good but damn was it rich. I somehow contracted a nasty headache earlier in the day, and that, combined with spaghetti and meatballs and a shotput-size banana bread pudding, knocked me on my ass for an hour or so. Don't worry, I rose from my grave to booze later in the evening. —DL
Saturday, day: Bobbed and weaved through the Bruins parade ("Yo Sullayyyy! Just to reiterate, we gawt the fuckin' CUP, bro!") for pre-wedding eats at The Paramount, a diner-like Boston lunch/brunch institution. They run ship in a weirdly efficient way here: You wait in a long line that extends from the front door and hairpins to a cafeteria-style open line. Tell the Português cooks what you want — these dudes were fast, fun to watch them work — and it's in front of you in moments; proceed to the register, pay, then find a seat. Somehow, some way, there's always an open table for every party that completes this transaction; something mystical about the timing of it all ensures you've always got a place to perch. M and me got salmon and bacon/cheese burgers, respectively, while the groom opted for some huevos. —DL
Saturday night, visited Harry's Oyster Bar in the classy new annex of otherwise derelict Bally's (1900 Pacific Ave.). Seriously haven't seen a gathering of humans this unfortunate-looking since I stopped to pee at the Molly Pitcher rest stop on the Jersey Turnpike. The food and service was just as rough, a surprise considering the owners also operate AC tight ships Dock's and Knife & Fork. Ordered a bottle of Rogue and waitress showed up with a bottle of Cote du Rhone. —AE
Made it back to Philly in one piece (shoutout to Southwest — I'll never drive to New England again if I don't have to) and was fading fast, so we pit-stopped it for lunch at Pure Fare (119 S. 21st St.) for healthy eats, including this (mayoless, whaaat?!) tuna salad sandwich. Check out this week's CP for my full impressions of this Center City grab-and-go. —DL
For Father's Day, I combined two of my dad's favorite things and cooked him breakfast: pancakes and root beer. Can of Barq's went right in the batter to create spicy, sweet root beer flapjacks. Turned our pretty good for something I made up on the spot. Later, did two Dad Day dinners. First was giant cookout at my cousin's Vineland, N.J. compound (so much nature!), followed by a sit-down at the FiL and MiL's in Holland. Get a load of those whole caramelized onions! —AE
Was too worn out to cook anything complicated (read: involving more than one step) for a Sunday dinner, so grabbed a half anchovy/half plain pie — well-done, gotta get it well-done! — from Lazaro's (1743 South St.) and a nice bag of spinach from Pumpkin Market (1612 South St.), which provided the ideal levels of sodium, cheese and ruffage to counterract the most stifling TV cliffhanger in recent memory. How you gonna do us like that, The Killing? Definitely still liked this season, though. —DL
Boston was fun! The fluke at B&G was the best and I loved how they labeled the oysters, when you have 4 diff kinds it's nice to have a reference.
Paramount was a fun experience. It's amazing to watch the line rock all the orders so expediently without tickets, or mistakes for that matter. Salmon burger was great with feta and caramelized onions and the fruit cup was perfection.
I had an awesome smoothie from Pure Fare on Sunday - Kale and Green Apple. I will definitely get this again.— MLF- Friday involved a super feast at Lee How Fook. You need to get the tofu in crab meat sauce. I died. Died.
Went to Talula's Garden for cocktails on Saturday and discussed how all of their fancy cocktails are just basic drinks with stupid names. If you're gonna give me a gin and tonic with a cucumber in it, don't call it a Dream Whisperer or whatever. Even so the 'tails were delicious. I'll have to make a return trip for the food.
Extending from a convo had with Major Lazor about how surprisingly parent-friendly South Philly Tap Room is, took the pops there for Pop's Day. He thoroughly enjoyed the fried chicken with sides of mac and cheese and collared greens and I tried out the vegan hoagie, which is the only time I like tempeh. Speaking of parent-friendly, our waitress was so super friendly and wished us a happy father's day on our way out. Very nice of sweet of her!— molls to the wall - molls to the wall, I would just like to point out that our automated comment system flagged the word "Fook" as a curse word. Keeping us safe from pottymouthed Scottish Internet commenters!
South Philly Tap Room IS totally parent-friendly! And they have the most sweetheart staff around, it's true.— Drew Lazor - Strawberry rhubarb, oysters, ROOT BEER PANCAKES, and Lazaro's? Y'all are killing me!
Went to my boyfriend's sister's bachelorette party on Saturday. Took a bubbly-filled limo from North Jerz to Manhattan, and did the whole obscene drag show situation at Lucky Chang's, where I ate virtually nothing (how could I? There was too much to look at!) and drank sugary punchies out of bowls (no ween straws, thank the lord). Cigarette breaks were spent lamenting in the direction of PRUNE, WHERE I WISH I HAD BEEN SITTING AND SPENDING ALL OF MY MONEY. Prune Prune Pruuuuune Prune. PRUNE. I wanted roasted marrow bones, damnit, Gabs!
Several whiskey shots later, almost cheated on my GF self and got a slice of NY pizza. Instead I opted for falafel-no-pita with tahini (triumphant pat on back). Eaten by hand. In the limousine. While finishing every last drop of booze back there. Ouch.— laurelro - Now I want roasted marrow bones too laurelro. Meet you at Mémé? — Drew Lazor
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