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Notes from the Weekend: September 10
What did team Meal Ticket get up to this weekend? Pizza, sandwiches, beer and Jell-O shots!
Notes from the Weekend: September 10
Notes from the Weekend is a feature that sees the members of Team Meal Ticket compiling all the food/drink highlights uncovered during prime eatin' time, Friday to Sunday. We'd love to hear all about YOUR weekend eating adventures in the comments. Go for it! (View past NFTW installments at citypaper.net/notes.)
Adam Erace: AE
Caroline Russock: CR
Emily Kovach: EK
Friday kicked off with a trip up to Pizza Brain (2313 Frankford Ave.) for their historic ribbon cutting/grand opening ceremony. And it was pretty grand indeed. Hell, the deputy mayor was even there. Unfortunately long lines and previous obligations kept me from a second sampling of Pizza Brain's awesome pies (and Little Baby's pizza-flavored ice cream.) After a few backyard rum and Cokes with Pizza Brain muralist I hopped on the train and headed back to South Philly for a dinner at Miss Rachel's Pantry (1732 West Passyunk Ave.) Highlights of the tasting menu included potato latkes with vegan sour cream, a salad of baby greens with coconut bacon (yes!) and tofu bites and a selection of beer from Perkasie's Free Will Brewing. My buddy Emily can tell you about how the rest of the evening played out at Making Time with the awesome Holograms in from Sweden.—CR
On Friday night, my dinner was staff meal at Miss Rachel’s Pantry. Tomato soup sipped straight from a quart container, and jicama slaw scooped up with a piece of bread in lieu of a fork was just the stuff to bolster me for Making Time at Voyeur. The hearty vegan fare served me well as I made my way through Jameson, beer, and more beer in the smoky depths of the Ruby Lounge. Beer doesn’t often follow you home from a bar, but I somehow made it back to West Philly with an unopened bottle of Corona bobbing around my tote bag.—EK
Serves me right for diverging from my typical Santucci's/Francoluigi's pizza delivery rotation on Friday night. This white pie layered with ricotta and mozzarella from Isabella Pizza (1824 East Passyunk Ave.) was aite, but the cheeses were baked on big-time, and I found myself longing for the long stretchy telephone wires of melted formagg. Their spinach salad and puny wings didn't really do it for me either. Maybe that's why I spent the weekend in an unhealthy food tailspin, culminating in a late-nite WaWa run on Saturday? Mozzarella sticks = ill-advised. —AE
The pup and I headed off on our weekly Saturday morning tradition of a romp in Clark Park and farmer’s market shopping spree. I passed up my usual iced coffee for a fresh squeezed minty limeade, made to order by a beatific hippie, a cutting board balanced on the back of a tricycle his makeshift kitchen. The intensely refreshing spritzer, based on Indian shikanji, turned out to be a champion hangover buster. Lunch was a homecooked event: a buttery hash of fingerling potatoes, onions, and tomatoes topped with a fried egg and cheese, and a stack of delicate fried okra. I’ve been craving fried okra for weeks, and the pay off was supremely satisying.
A rainy trek to Point Breeze later that evening led me to the Green Street Coffee Block Party (1919 Alter St.), where I shared a melt-y grilled cheese with kimchi with MT maven Caroline, huddled cozily under the awning of the Ka’Chi truck. We schmoozed with Molieri brothers and a bunch of cool Philly kids, sipping Sixpoint and Narragansett tall boys. During a break in the rain storm, a kindly neighbor brought over a giant bowl of Jell-O shots and kicked things up a notch. A few hours and a shared six pack later, Caroline and I walked a few short blocks over to American Sardine Bar. There, I tangoed with the first bologna sandwich I’ve had since probably 5th grade (Nick Macri’s award winning meat patty piled high with burger-style toppings, and damn it was good). A crab melt, and generous bowls of fried snacks rounded out our late dinner. All the dudes from the block party eventually came over, and we joked over cold cans of beer until the p.m. turned to a.m.—EK
No too much more to add since Emily and I spent all of Saturday afternoon and evening block partying it up at Green Street and taking the party to American Sardine Bar (1800 Federal St.) Basically if your Saturday involves three incredible sandwiches, fries, onion rings, and copious quantities of beer, a party in the rain (and maybe a few Jell-O shots), well, everything is pretty much perfect. —CR
My eats improved exponentially on Sunday with an Official City Paper breakfast at Port Richmond's charming Mercer Cafe (2619 East Westmoreland St.) Details embargoed till my review runs, but I will say that should you find yourself there between now and then, ORDER THE S.O.S. Food shopped after, then planted myself on the couch for a double dose of NFL action. Between the ones and fours, managed to throw on a pot of gravy that filled the house with aromas of simmering tomatoes, garlic and anchovy, the latter of which later tied nicely into the brininess of some sepia-ink pasta C and I brought home from Sicily.—AE
Yogurt with fruit seemed appropriate for the morning after such a feast, and tided me over until a late lunch in center city at Village Whiskey (118 S. 20th St.) The bar was pleasantly quiet, and I read a magazine with a glass of Brooklyn Pennant Ale until my snacks arrived: a trio of deviled eggs (no fancy flavors, just straight up picnic style), and a handsome jar of tumeric stained cauliflower pickles. The whipped ricotta, kalamata tapenade, and baguette slices on the side were the perfect accompaniment. Scoops of peach and macadamia nut gelato from Capogiro across the street kept me company as I cruised through the clear afternoon, back to the trolley stop.—EK
Sunday saw a late lunch with my mom at Resurrection Ale House (2425 Grays Ferry Ave.) where the obvious order was fried chicken. We started out with a killer braised fennel salad with olives, dill, haricots verts and little shreds of sweet-tart slow cooked tomato. We finished off the meal with a slice of blueberry-almond tart topped off with barely sweetened whipped cream.
Sometime much later in the evening I was hit with a sudden undeniable craving for ramen. Since Sunday night isn't exactly the most ramen-friendly hour in this city I made do with a homemade bastardization made with shrimp stock, soba noodles, chiles, scallions and a soy sauce egg. Authentic? Not even a little but it totally did the trick.—CR
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