The Danger of Edible Accoutrements....

Sometimes it is lovely to dine alone. I find that it is an excellent opportunity to make your food your best friend. You can't be distracted by the commentary of a dining companion; the eating experience becomes a one-way conversation between you and your entree. And the food has only one thing to say -- Eat me.

I decided to dine in a manner uncharacteristic for me. The restaurant at the top of my hotel in Dallas this week, Chaparral, rated *four stars* by the esteemed AAA. It's no Zagat rating; my experience with Triple A recommendations has been confined to finding a hotel/motel when stranded with a van of crazy family members without housing in the open Southwest. Still, the advertisements in the hotel elevator and all over my room seemed to invite a visit. That and the fact dining in the hotel restaurant would spare me from the hot mugginess that is Dallas in June.

crudite
assorted bread
ice tea
roast sea bass
coffee
lemon chantilly mousse

CRUDITE
This was an unexpected house complimentary offering which although fetching to look at and good for passing the time while waiting for my entree, was unexciting. It came served in a giant martini glass with young veggies embedded in shaved ice. The garlic hummus spread that was to serve as a dipping sauce of some sort was confused, neither hummusy or garlicky. Just kind of brown with green herbs in it. Nevertheless, I enjoyed cleansing my palate with a few stalks of jicama. Left the celery untouched.

ASSORTED BREAD
I like it when a restaurant brings out an assortment of special breads rather than slapping some run-of-the-mill stuff on the table, as if to say, you look like you need to feel bloated today for no reason - try some bread. There was butter in one of my breads; I could smell it when it hit the table. Can't find fault in that.

ROAST SEA BASS WITH TOMATO COULIS SERVED WITH SPINACH AND LOBSTER RISOTTO
Most waiters don't know that if I've had the opportunity to do so, I've previewed the menu on the Internet. I find that in the quiet space away from the din of the restaurant, away from the foreign-accented descriptions by the waitstaff of tonight's dishes, I can shrewdly calculate what I want to eat. Tonight was such an occasion. I had pre-selected roast sea bass although I permitted my waiter to go through the motions of explaining the day's specials. He actually independently recommended the sea bass at the end, which I took as a green light.

My first bite of the sea bass was quite good. It was cooked just enough - still tender but flaking gently with the push of a fork. Had a nice little crust to it. Had the fish been served alone like this, I might have joined Triple AAA in its quadruple star rating.

The problem with the word LOBSTER before anything other than MARKET PRICE or WHOLE is that usually whatever it is, it doesn't have enough lobster soul in it. Tonight's "lobster risotto" was no exception. I don't think it is enough to treat "lobster" as a mere color of cream sauce for some otherwise unexciting rice. (Nothing arboriol about this risotto.) While the entree as whole had pleasing colors, I of course had to taste the colors as well. The tomato coulis over the fish was decent, but not exactly the right accompaniment. I thought that perhaps if served in another context, I might have enjoyed it more. And then there is the subject of other obligatory vegetables: in this case, a small bed of spinach, one carrot, and two shaved spears of asparagus. The asparagus was nondescript and the carrot, while young and full of carroty flavor, seemed misplaced with its perfume. Lying next to a big steak, it (and I) might have been happier. The only nonintrusive accompaniment was the lightly seasoned spinach.

In finishing the sea bass but leaving the various accoutrements, I decided that the Chinese (or more inclusively, Asian cuisine in general) have the right idea when it comes to fish. Don't dress up fish like it's poultry or steak. All of it robs the fish of its most exciting flavor, which is that of the fresh open sea. There is something to be said for serving a bowl of plain rice with fish - let the fish be on stage, not standing behind senseless vegetables and costumed in directionless cream sauce.

(Note: The sea bass also came with an interesting garnish/condiment - a half lemon wrapped in what appeared to be yellow muslin-like fabric, complete with green bow, ostensibly so that when you squeeze the lemon, the seeds do not fall onto your precious fish. At first, I wondered if a bouquet-garni had wandered onto my plate, but I am sure that many other restaurant goers have unwrapped this surprise not understanding its utility, despite its obvious aesthetic acknowledgement.)

Overall, however, the sea bass was decent enough that it was a pleasing meal. It did have the unfortunate experience of tasting less and less good as I continued to eat, but you can't have everything.

COFFEE
The menu offered an array of "specialty" coffees for $8.95 each, apparently made "special" by the addition of a splash of some type of alcohol. That is way too much for any coffee unless it comes with a bottle of booze attached to it. The fancy splash was not enough so I ordered plain coffee, which nicely turned out to be solidly good.

ICE TEA
Never-ending refills when you dine at the top of a hotel! I drank buckets.

LEMON CHANTILLY
After I interrogated the waiter regarding the chocolate used in the "Godiva Chocolate Bread Pudding," I decided I had enough of having my chocolate hopes and expectations dashed by inartful American sweetness. So I elected to get the lemon mousse chantilly. It had a decent pistachio cake crust to it, but the lemon mousse was about average. A little too greasy feeling. A little too much of store-bought lemon flavor. Also, there was a cookie-like curly garnish on the top of my mousse which of course I tried to eat. It tasted stale, like an after-thought. Word to the wise: don't put garnish on top of anything unless you're ready for someone curious like me to eat it. Still, at the end of the meal, I no longer needed chapstick, which I had earlier noted was being sold at the hotel gift shop at the highway-robbery prohibitive price of $3.00.

SERVICE
Only nerds eat early, which meant I was given a large table right by the window with a less than most flattering view of Dallas. Probably no fewer than six different staff members either greeted me, refilled my drink, brought my crudite, cleared my table, etc., etc. And given it was Dallas, it was like being served dinner by a kindly troupe of Hispanic grandfathers and uncles. Very pleasant.

THE BELLY'S RATING: 2.95 out of possible 4 cow bellies. I'm feeling generous tonight!

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You Know It's Spring When You're Eating Rudolph!

Some might think that living in the one long beautiful sunny day that is California might make its residents completely oblivious to the changing of seasons. If anything, though, my years spent in the sunny land have left me more heightened to seasonal details. Be it a brilliant crimson fall or a budding spring abloom with magnolias and fertility so rich you can taste it in the mud - the seasons keep life dynamic and pose excellent opportunities for renaissance.

In Anchorage, there are a few clear signs of that Spring is finally here:

1. The Park Strip starts to melt, which unfortunately unhides The Poop of One Hundred Dogs. These are the dogs who frequently made their mark in the park during our many-monthed winter.
   
2. Everyone's yard starts to melt, magically revealing The Poop of Many Moose who may have crunched away at your most expensive bushes and fruit trees.

3. Slow, dim-witted mosquitoes begin to appear. As someone who was born with the pheremone that drives these buggers wild, I can't say I am fond of this sign of spring. (Right now, the mosquitoes float slowly as if drunk, but even in this relatively harmless state, I see them only has Harbingers of Doom.)


4. Wild geese are afoot everywhere. With them, they bring their own poop, but it's fresh spring poop that seems to act as a fertilizer to help green up the Park Strip and other currently brown spaces.


5. And finally, the reindeer dog stands pop back up in downtown.

Today, I took advantage of #5 and had my first reindeer dog of the season. My decision to do so today was no coincidence. First of all, we finally got a bona fide sunny day. Second, there are only a handful of days before May. Why should this matter, you might ask?

The downtown Anchorage area is a tourist drag, lined with shops selling the kitchiest souvenirs you can think of. (While all souvenirs by definition are kitchy, this state is predisposed to hawking what might be considered exceptionally bizarre down south, such as chocolates in the shape of moose poop.) A sure mark that tourist season is warming up is the sudden proliferation of reindeer dog stands.

The reindeer dog itself isn't really as exotic as tourists might think. It tastes much like any other kind of delicious sausage; it doesn't come with antlers or anything weird like that. But for whatever reason, it seems to give tourists a lot of satisfaction to chow down on Rudolph. My suspicion is that running a reindeer dog stand in downtown Anchorage is a very lucrative business.

Like all small businesses based on shacks and stands, a lot of the reindeer dog establishments use sex to sell the goods. It's not uncommon to find a pretty lady flipping your dogs. But the locals, and by that I mean the subset of Anchorage residents who work right in downtown (and by that I could probably further winnow the pool down to young lawyers who work downtown), they seem to favor M.A.'s Gourmet Hot Dogs.

M.A. was my first and has been my only reindeer dog guy, unless you count that one giant package I bought at Costco for a camping trip (which I don't). He was introduced to me by another young downtown Anchorage lawyer, and I've been going there ever since. M.A. himself does not appear to use sex to sell his dogs. Don't get me wrong; he's a decent-looking man, but I think he wears a fanny pack which leads me to believe he is not using his body to sell his wares. The protocol at MA is to know what you want and be ready to order when you get to the front of the line. At noon, when the line winds around the Federal Building where he has set up shop, a failure to do this may incur some wrath or at least certainly a few dirty looks from more seasoned customers.

I think M.A.'s stand was recently, in the last two years, featured on TV - either PBS or the Food Network or both - and this newfound fame was no doubt responsible for the rather ridiculous price hike we saw last season. The standard reindeer went up at least one dollar, and when you're talking hot dogs, that's a material increase. I stopped ordering "the Special" (which includes chips and soda) and elect instead to devote my funds purely to reindeer. M.A. carries some other varieties of dogs - I remember the summer he started doing this and how excited he was about the expansion - but trust me, stick with the classic Rudolph.

So why do I choose M.A. over the other sexy hot dog vendors? Since I am not a man, I am immune to the wiles of M.A.'s competition. But I see other men buying high-priced dogs from M.A., so what's the draw?

Well, the devil is in the details.

M.A. sautes his onions in Coke Classic. Not some knock-off soda or RC cola, but the real stuff. No diet. Just the good stuff out of the red can. This isn't just a party trick; the Coke adds sugars and caramelization to the onions. A savvy business man, M.A. maintains a Rolodex of "Frequent Wiener" cards so that his regular customers can earn their way to a free dog. Unfortunately, you have to eat something like twelve dogs, or at least some other highly significant number, before you earn your free sausage. Surprisingly, I've never made this summit. My first year, I got very close by going very often and by treating my tourist out-of-town guests to reindeer dogs. Just when I figured I was just on the brink of getting my free dog, I could not find my card anywhere in the official Frequent Wiener Rolodex.

M.A. explained that if you don't re-activate your Frequent Wiener card in April, when he first restarts his stand, he throws the card away. It's not a mean business tactic - if he didn't, he'd have to start rolling a giant Rolodex instead of his hot dog stand. Needless to say, I was crushed by this business policy. After all of that diligent consumption of reindeer, I had to start over.

So today, April 26, 2007, I knew that I had only moments before I would suffer the same fate again. With the sun out and a friend who never had been to M.A., the stars were aligned.

I'm happy to report that the Rudolph I got today was exquisite. Just perfect. I won't say it was magical because after all, it's a hot dog, but there wasn't anything else I would have asked for with respect to this dog. Most importantly, I am now a re-activated Wiener and am looking forward to many many wieners to come.

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Bring Back The Five-For-Five!!!!!

I may be skirting the fine line separating the Blogworthy from the Better Left Unsaid, but this is a one-woman-one-stomach campaign to bring back the Arby's FIVE-FOR-FIVE deal. For those of you who sadly missed the promotion, it permitted a hungry customer to buy five items of food (your choice of Arby's Melt, Curly Fries, Drink, Cherry or Apple turnover) for five dollars... and ninety-five cents. That's the annoying fine print. It's not really "five-for-five" but rather, "FIVE-FOR-FIVE-NINETY-FIVE." Arby's had the good sense to know that "five-for-five-ninety-five" would not be a good slogan, so they elected instead to defraud their customers with "five-for-five."

Ninety-five cents and fraud aside, I am mostly upset that the five-for-five is gone. I am even more upset that it has been replaced by a disturbing TWO FOR FOUR FISH SANDWICHES. Not only has the price per item of food doubled overnight, but the previous array of diverse options has now dwindled to a single fried fish sandwich, not very promising from an establishment that specializes in roast beef (and even this specialty is suspect). The extent of your choice is to get two of these unappetizing sandwiches.

What Arby's doesn't know, and perhaps this is why they pulled the FIVE-FOR-FIVE, is the cessation of this promo is really cramping my style. The five-for-five used to be my default bet. "I bet you a five-for-five that you're wrong!" was a win-win situation. If I lost, I had to buy a friend a five-for-five, which said friend would usually graciously split with me. If I won, the friend footed the bill. But in all circumstances, everybody gets to eat five-for-five. Everybody wins!

"I bet you a two-for-four-fish-sandwich!" however, does not have the same ring. Nor is it likely to invite anyone to wager against me. With the departure of the five-for-five, I've ceased being a betting woman, rolling with Vegas odds. Life in the fast lane cannot be had with fish sandwiches in your convertible. Nobody wins!

So to anyone else similarly grieving the loss of the five-for-five, please contact your local Arby's and bring the five-for-five back. And at all costs, don't be suckered into the two-for-four fish.

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