Home Shrimp

Once again, not a restaurant. Once again, winter weather and on-call. But we decided to make it count. Angel's birthday was coming up, this meal is something we've celebrated things like that for many years. Simple, easy, awfully decadent and satisfying.

We'd planned ahead, the only thing I needed to pick up this weekend was the dessert, which we'd just decided on.

I made the meal.

There was a steak on standby for when Adam got home from work, he doesn't like seafood.

The Food:

Shrimp, salad, garlic toast. Simple.

Of course the shrimp was frozen, this is middle America after all. Fortunately freezing shrimp does not change its taste and texture much. We get the de-veined (it's not really a vein) and shell-on. We picked up a big pot with a strainer and steamer basket a few years ago, this is pretty much the only thing we use it for. We'd let the sea bugs thaw in the lower part of the fridge most of the afternoon, it was thawed nicely by dinnertime.

Step one, turn on the oven and start the pot of water. Into the water I added salt and a heaping helping of Old Bay seasoning. While waiting, not watching, the water to boil, I prepped the toast. A loaf of fresh French bread from our local bakery (Walmart). I sliced half of it in about 3/4 inch slices and laid them out on the sheet pan that had been rubbed down with olive oil. This, I recently found, adds a subtle flavor kick to the finished toast. Using my press, I smashed a few cloves of garlic, sliced a stick of butter and set that in the microwave just long enough for the butter to melt completely. I let it set for a bit to soak up the garlic. This garlic/butter mix serves two purposes.

The first is to butter the bread. applied with a basting brush. Not too much, just a shiny sheen's worth.

The water was starting to boil so I set the steamer basket full of shrimp, which I'd salted and Old Bay'd as well, into it and covered it. The seasoning doesn't actually add a lot of flavor to the shell covered shrimp, but man, does it make the house smell good!

Time to prep the salad. 

The salad bar.

We rarely make family salads, rather we make our own mini salad bar. I chopped, sliced, washed and shaved red bell pepper, onion, cucumber, tomato and carrot. The greens, Romaine lettuce and spinach were chopped, washed and spun in our big salad spinner that we picked up at some sort of kitchen outlet store in southeastern Missouri, while on a drive back from Kentucky.

By this time The shrimp was pinking up nicely. I reduced the heat and let the residual steam finish it off.

The toast went into the oven, I spread the newspaper.

What?

Peeling shrimp is messy, let's not pretend otherwise. Sure, we use plates, but the peels go into a pile on laid out newspaper, it's just the way we've always done it.

I made sure Angel would be done with the current round of dog needs and noticed that this snowfall was piling up heavier than I'd thought it would. the boy was on the road by then. Angel had texted him and let him know that the roads and driveway were starting to get covered, He was driving home from Arnold, it would be a while.

Angel came in, removed about five layers of coats, gloves, scarves and hoodies, took off her fur lined boots while I prepared my plate.

I set the whole pot on a big cork coaster on the table, reheated the garlic butter just a bit and assembled my salad.

She followed soon, doing the same. Yeah, I'd made myself some fresh tea, one Luzianne teabag into my one cup coffee maker filled with bottled water (our tap water is highly mineral rich and clogs coffee makers in just a few months). Fill a big glass with ice and pour the hot brew over the top, done. Dark, tasty, fresh. If you don't make your tea this way, you are doing it wrong.

Then the wonderful messy part. The shrimp in the pot was almost too hot to handle, but we were really ready to start eating so we suffered thought peeling a bunch. I dropped my denuded bugs one at a time into the garlic butter. 

If your mouth is not watering heavily at this point then you are just an ignorant America-hater.

I'll admit that the toast had stayed in the oven for maybe a minute longer than it should have, a little crispier than I'd intended. That was Angel's fault though, she took too long coming in from outside.

It was still delicious though. Not drowning in butter or garlic or olive oil, but a pleasant, aromatic blend of the flavors. I'd topped my salad with a slightly sweet poppy seed dressing, to compliment the buttery, savory shrimp and toast.

We absolutely stuffed ourselves. There was certainly some shrimp left, but we could use that in the upcoming meals, on lighter salad days.

The taste, as you can imagine, was heavenly. 

The pile of shells had Rudy's undivided attention. he didn't get any. I do think he got a little steak later when Adam got home. Whenever he's upstairs and we're preparing a meal he can be found underfoot. He's discovered that Angel and I are somewhat clumsy and tend to drop things. He's an opportunist.

I post a lot of pictures of Rudy on the social media. He's quite expressive and comical. People ask me what kind of dog he is. I'm tired of saying 'it's complicated' or 'I don't know'. He's a mutt, a mix of unknown lineage. He doesn't really look like any one breed, which is fine with us since 'breed' is not a scientific term anyhow, it's just a set of standards voted on by kennel clubs so they can be on a register and can be inbred for a high price. But don't get me started on that soap box. I've decided that he's a Kasehund. Which is, roughly, German for 'cheese hound'. Friends and followers of him on social media will get the cheese reference for Rudy. Why German? Because Queso Pero (Spanish) and Fromage Chien (French) just didn't sound right. 

Dessert:

We didn't have dessert with the meal, that would be for later, after another round of dog stuff. I'd

picked up a pre-made New York cheesecake while at the local bakery (Walmart) earlier. I don't have the patience to learn how to make a consistently good cheesecake at home. Plus there's no real reason to. The ingredients cost nearly as much as a pre-made cake. 

For the topping, I'd also picked up a bag of frozen whole blueberries. This I could do. Put a little butter in a small skillet, toss in blueberries, add just a little sugar, let heat, then smash with a spatula. Done. Serve with a fresh cup of coffee. . .Mmm, mmm good! 

There is very little in this world I love more than blueberry cheesecake. Not even Angel rises to this level. It's okay, Angel's always known this. It gives her a goal. A standard to try to live up to. 

Happy Birthday Dear!

Home Subs

Klondike Rd.

Hillsboro, Mo.

Ha! Fooled you!

This is not a restaurant. It's our home. We made sammiches.

 A couple of things that we knew about ahead of time kept us on the compound, warm and cozy. It was my turn in the on-call barrel again and there was an ice storm rolling through. Angel properly stocked the pantry for the almost certain hunkering down.

I noticed the groceries. Interesting stuff. Three kinds of special bread. Sub rolls, soft pretzel bread and some square buns.

Looking in the fridge I saw deli sliced meats, three or four kinds, and various flavors of deli cheese slices.

Yeah boy, sandwiches!

The Place:

A modern but modest looking house nestled into a five acre spread a few miles outside of Hillsboro. We moved in nearly nine years ago, we've lived here longer than anywhere else. The house sits three hundred or more feet from the road and is surrounded by a 89 acre fence-less wooded plot of land that's unoccupied and has been on the market since before we moved here. Our parcel was carved out of that land, sold separately to enable the owner, who inherited the property, to get at least some money out of it. 

Across the driveway from the house is a 30x60 foot steel outbuilding that we've converted into a training center for dogs. We've built out several fenced areas, large and small, to accommodate the many dogs that come and go.

We board and train dogs. By we, I mean Angel.

During the week we both work and don't even dine together. By the time I get home her and Adam have already had dinner, she often makes enough for me too, but isn't required to. I'm perfectly capable of cooking for myself with whatever we have on hand.

This is one of the reasons we started doing the restaurant per week thing. To take some time out and spend time together.

The 300+ foot driveway is the reason ice is a bigger problem for us than most people. Twice I've slid off of it and into the yard, missing the mighty oaks by mere inches.

But it's home.

The Food:

Knowing ahead of time of the plan, I thought about my sandwich and sides for a couple of days. 

She bought a bag of potatoes too. Options.  We don't keep potatoes in the house very often. Adam wanted to make fries, we wanted potato salad.

I peeled and cubed the potatoes, boiled up a pot of water and microwaved the potatoes for five minutes to reduce the boiling time.

Angel finished them up, I had some work stuff to do.We pulled out everything sandwich-able and laid it out on the kitchen island. At several points of the prep stage we were all three in the small but open kitchen preparing something. I was thin slicing some hot house tomatoes and shredding some lettuce, Adam  was expertly twice-frying his hand cut potatoes, he peeled and sliced his own as well. He watches food shows too.

I also sliced some of the sub rolls and square buns, fired up the oven to 400, slathered just a little butter on the open faces and toasted.

Once the potatoes were done we took turns building dream sandwiches

I took one of the toasted sub rolls, pushed in the crunchy, buttery faces (they hold on better to stuff if you do this.)

On the bottom, lettuce and tomatoes. On the top, smoked turkey, roast beef and ham, topped with provolone and Swiss cheese and a thin bacon slice. I didn't use mayo, choosing instead to squeeze a little herb-vinegar-oil on it all.

A few fries, a pile of potato salad, and freshly brewed tea, done!

Angel and Adam weren't so particular about presentation. They used the same ingredients though, except Adam doesn't like tomatoes.

Angel also picked a sub roll. She took more fries than me and poured ketchup over them. She's one of those people. I'm a dipper.

She also slathered her meat in mayonnaise. I like mayonnaise too, but thought the potato salad would have enough for one meal.

Adam picked a square bun, they had toasted up beautifully. He doubled up on the bacon as well. He's a chip off the old heart attack when it comes to bacon.
His fries were exceptional. Better than any fast food joint, he made small, manageable batches, took them out before they were too dark, then, once he'd done that he repeated the process with the already cooked ones to crisp them up. He nailed the process. My sandwich was, of course, perfect. Fresh deli-sliced meats, fresh cheese, about as good a tomato as you can find in February. Lightly sauced, crunchy, buttery bread. Mmmmm.
Summary:
This was nice-restaurant quality stuff. We know what we're doing. The potato salad was slightly relish-sweet, the extra we paid for the sandwich ingredients made this meal just really, really good.
As has been my nature lately though, I couldn't finish my sandwich. The other half sits in the fridge as I type. Lunch on Sunday maybe?
With home-made meals like this, I can't say why we go out so often. We're certainly capable of making restaurant quality meals ourselves.
Highly recommended!

Local House Restaurant and Bar

3946 Jeffco Blvd.
Arnold, Mo.
On the Internet
On Facebook

We were discussing the options this week, the subject of fish tacos came up. I was game. Angel mentioned a place we went to a year ago, Cafe Arnold, that she thought made them better than most other places. I loaded up the review we did at the time and saw that the place had at that time, just changed ownership and that we liked it really well.
I also loaded up their online menu and saw that it looked the same. Decision, made.
So for the rest of the week, I decided I would order the fish tacos, something I've never, ever done before. Not that I don't like them, I do like a good one, they just aren't on my pop-up list of cravings.
So we went.
Uh oh.

The sign on the strip mall location had been replaced with a banner. "Now Open! The Local House". It said. We stood and stared at the banner for a few moments, not sure what to do. We saw people coming and going, so we finally decided to give it a  whirl.

The Place:
Pretty much the same as a year ago under the previous name. Nicely decorated, seven TV's on the dining area's walls all tuned to sports, muted. There was overhead music "I've Got Sunshine", "My Girl", "You Really Got a Hold On Me", etc. Back twenty or thirty years ago we called those songs 'Oldies'. I'm not sure what they are called now. I do know it wasn't country, or opera, two song genre's that tempt me to spray paint explicit obscenities on clean walls, so it was fine.  There was a separate bar area where there were even more muted, sports-infested flat screens. The small bar crowd was not too loud or rowdy, so we walked right past it.
We were led to a booth that we remembered as being just one or two booths away from the last time we

were there.
I usually do advance research on a place before we visit. This time I had nothing. So I broke my tradition and actually asked the young lady that was seating us about the apparent change.
Maddie concurred that the place had changed hands again about a month back. It was a quick-turn from the previous owner to the new one, a couple of weeks, which is why it looked exactly the same as before. It was a turn-key deal. New name, new management, new menu and new staff. No redecorating or remodeling.
Okay.
The Food:
The menu had changed completely. One thing that was noticeably missing was. . .  You guessed it, there were no fish tacos listed, anywhere.
There were lots of alternative options though. . . perhaps too many (more on that later).
Pizzas, burgers, sandwiches, pastas, steaks, a LOT of options.
It took me a while to refocus, I'd had fish taco on the brain for several days and was having trouble resetting that.
I didn't want pizza, or a fat burger. . . there, steak, can't go wrong with a steak. Fortunately they had an 8oz. option, a 'hand cut sirloin'. I like steak, but I don't ever want an entire side of beef. Especially if there is a salad and at least one starchy side.
I shouldn't have to explain this to you again, my tummy capacity has shrunk over the last couple of years. I haven't been able to actually finish a typical fat burger or pasta plate since.
Adam and Angel seemed to have decided as well, but like me, Angel would occasionally pick up the menu again and give it another go-over.
Maddie arrived with our drinks, tea, tea and Pepsi. The tea looked clear and fresh. A good start.

Angel and Adam had sort of decided on an appetizer, wings, but had to ask Maddie what a 'Trashed Butter Garlic' sauce was. Satisfied with the detailed explanation, they chose ten of those.
I wasn't too concerned myself, I don't like sports bar wings, anybody's. I don't want to have to pull up the Scoville scale to determine whether the things are going to burn through my innards or not.
Maddie came back quickly with the complimentary bread basket and pointed out the house made honey butter. We gave her our main course orders.
Me: 8oz. 'Hand Cut Sirloin', mashed potatoes and a house salad with the house vinaigrette.
Angel: Tutto Mare (seafood pasta, 'from the sea') with no salad, no side.
Adam: Spicy Chicken Sandwich and fries.
We slathered the creamy honey butter onto the small slices of bread and each agreed that there was no

discernible honey taste or texture. It was good, it just lacked that sweet note the item's name would indicate.
The wings came pretty soon. To be fair and objective, I tried a small pull from one of Angel's wings.
Then an amazing thing happened. I grabbed a small plate and slapped a full wing onto it. It was awesome!
Yeah, I know. But allow me to explain. These were not 'hot wings'. These were just very crispy, very tender and juicy wings soaked in a garlic butter sauce. Completely great! How they achieved and maintained that crispiness and depth of flavor, I have no idea.

I could stop right here and endorse this place just based on those wings alone. A mug of beer, a pile of those wings, I might even endure a sports competition on TV over something like that. (Not really)
Those wings disappeared.
My salad came soon after that.
A pretty salad, huge cucumber slices, large tomato chunks and thickly chopped lettuce with four or five croutons and a fistful of grated white (Provel) cheese.
Those among you that have followed this review site for a while know I have a couple of problems with that description. You know I don't like fussing with/cutting up salad ingredients. Sure, big thick toppings make a salad pretty, but salad bowls are not chopping blocks and the only blunt instrument available before the steak arrives is a butter knife that has the cutting capacity of those plastic kindergarten scissors. There will be spillage.
Not an instant black mark, more of a petty personal preference thing.
 My pimp* took me to a restaurant a couple of weeks back that offered a 'chopped' salad. Everything in it was chopped to the size of coleslaw. Loved it! When I make salads myself I make it somewhere in between, precisely so I don't have to fuss with it at the table.
The house vinaigrette was fine, a basic oil and vinegar dressing, nothing fancy or special.
Maddie came by a few times, each time engaging in conversation. I liked her. She was smart, friendly, and she certainly knew her menu.
Finally the entrees arrived with a few surprises, mostly in the portion size department.

My steak looked great, beautifully seared. The mashed potatoes were cooked dirty style, which I like, but there was a lot of them. Adam looked at the bowl and said that it looked like a serving for the entire family. Well, it could be worse, it could be too small. They tasted great though. I've had problems with a lot of places over-salting mashed potatoes. Not here though, the taste and texture of these were perfect. They'd offered gravy, which I'd refused. Angel, I'm sure, was thinking that turning down gravy was tantamount to high blasphemy.
The steak tasted great. I have to say though, it was tougher than I'd expected. Not shoe leather tough, just not top quality cut tender. I've had tougher steak, heck, I've cooked tougher steaks, but still, I have to mention it.
Angel's pasta dish was enormous. We've come to expect this. We're not sure why this occurs, pasta is very,
very filling. It's basically all starch so it bloats a person quickly. When we make pasta at home we use it sparingly. Pasta all tastes exactly the same, which isn't a lot, until you put sauce on it. The sauce and the sauce's ingredients are what make a satisfying dish. Too much pasta, like too much bread on a sandwich, actually detracts from the experience. According to Angel, the pasta was very dense as well. She really appreciated the chopped asparagus bits though. Some of the seafood nuggets, though quite tasty and plentiful, were chopped fine and hard to extract individually.

Adam's sandwich was obviously enormous. The chicken slab was bigger than the bun and most small animals we've maintained over the years. The taste, he pointed out, was "quite good", just too big, and the fries. . .too many to finish.
Hmmm, Spotting a trend here?
Summary:
I learned that the new managers/owners came form Joey B's in St. Louis. That's certainly not a rookie enterprise. Joey B's is an acclaimed and well known chain of restaurants in metro St. Louis. To have come up through there is a pretty good culinary pedigree.
Maddie was absolutely great, she came up from a popular St. Louis food truck herself, (The Cheese Shack) having started with them at the age of thirteen. She knew her stuff, answered all questions, was engaging and completely knowledgeable. She kept us refilled and the courses were delivered in perfect timing. She even tried to sell us on dessert, not knowing us well enough to know we don't usually leave room for dessert. She recommended the new 'Killer Bread Pudding'. Three  words I've never thought of putting together in the same sentence. We declined politely.
As for the food, well, the wings were simply outstanding. Everything else was quite tasty. We were not disappointed at all with the flavors.
The price was spot on for an appetizer and three big entrees, $65, about what you'd pay at a franchise sports bar.
But.
Adam nailed it, portion proportion.
The mashed potatoes were the worst offender. I've never seen any single individual eat that much mashed potatoes in a single day. The amount of pasta on Angel's plate was enough to feed a small village in Asia or Italy or wherever pasta comes from. Adam's chicken slab was enormous. None of us finished our meals. In other words, we paid for a lot of food we didn't actually eat.
As we were packing up, Maddie asked about take-home boxes. Angel and Adam said sure, then she looked at me and asked if I wanted a box for the mashed potatoes. . . . uh, no.
How much food goes out in take-out boxes?
I'll say it again, the food tasted just fine, they've got the recipes pretty much nailed.
A lot of recipes. A whole lot of recipes.
I was a little concerned about the sheer amount of diverse offerings. I'm no restaurateur, but I do watch a bunch of them on TV. I know that a place that has a big and wildly diverse menu selection often has a problem with inventory. Ingredients, if they are any good, have a very short shelf life. If you are going to offer pizza, burgers, sandwiches, seafood, pasta and other entrees, you have to have all the ingredients on hand, all day, every day. That's a big upfront cost. Some of it, if not most of it will get frozen or tossed. Freezing is a texture killer. Almost every thing, once frozen will even taste different when served. It doesn't take academy trained taste buds to discriminate between fresh anything and the frozen version.
I'm not saying that Local House has this problem, but it is a concern since so many other places with similar menu diversity have gone under either from the higher than average upfront food costs, or the quality degradation from the kitchen being stretched too thin.  I didn't really notice any problems like that this visit, so they may have really, really good controls in place. Time will tell.
And we will be back. They did just open a month or so ago, so as always with a new place, my remarks and rebukes are annotated with an asterisk. They're new, but we have a list of things to check on when we do go back.
You've got to try those wings, even if they don't have fish tacos.
Oh yeah, as also is my custom, I'll ask: Local House, Can you please, please have at least one of those 15 TV's tuned to another channel?




*Pimp. That's what we contractors affectionately call our consulting company representatives, also lovingly referred to as headhunters. They pitch our 'talents' to prospective clients and pocket a sizable fee up front. It's not meant disparagingly.

St. Louis Bread Company (Panera)

1075 W. Gannon Dr.
Festus, Mo.
On  the Web



Outside the Metro St. Louis area, this 1800 store franchise is known as Panera Bread. The 101 locations here though, still go by the original name, St. Louis Bread Company.
It's quite a popular lunch or shopping break place. No deep fat fried items, mostly fresh made breads, salads, pastas and soups.
I had recently re-read some earlier reviews, looking for places that I needed to re-evaluate. This one surprised me as I feel as though we'd been there more frequently, but no. Not since 2010.
In that review I summarized by saying essentially that I'd ordered the wrong thing.
Well, time to fix that with a little advanced planning. During the week before this visit, I looked up the menu and made a mental list of things I'd be happier with.
The Place:
I like the idea of SLBC. A quality step up from fast food joints. They are also made for lounging.
Aside from the booths and tables, there are lounge chairs, quiet, cozy nooks that beg to be relaxed in. Grad a small bite, a cup of coffee, some WiFi or a book and just sit back, take a break. Like a coffee house. It has a clean, modern, casual look and feel. The seating area is separated from the ordering and counter area. I want to like SLBC.
We stepped in and up to the  ordering area. My mind went blank. It took me several minutes to readjust, refocus. No panini sandwich, no panini sandwich. . .
Commonly panini are squashed in a George Foreman type grill. I've decided that I didn't want all the ingredients heated, I wanted them fresh and cool. That was rule 1. . . I forgot the other rules. There was a soup that looked good. . . nope don't remember, go for a classic.
I placed my order, Angel placed hers, they handed over my cup. Angel settled up and waited for her lemonade. They also gave her a flashing vibrator. You know, the kind restaurants hand out to alert you when your order is ready.
I found us a table by the window, a four top. The boys, Adam and Larry arrived separately. We were going to a farm supply store afterward and for some reason they weren't interested in doing that. They were also handling their own bills. It's a new arrangement, part of an agreement we reached when Larry moved in. It's not a contentious agreement, just one that is part of the ongoing growing up process.
They would sit with us though.

The Food:
I had poured myself some unsweet tea. It looked clear and fresh. It was pretty good. Angel loves the lemonade, the boys had pop.
The vibrator started flashing and jiggling. At the same time someone behind the counter shouted Angel's name. The redundancy seemed completely unnecessary. No one could ignore the flat, square pager. Angel fetched the food. It looked fresh and clean.
I had ordered a Bacon Turkey Bravo sandwich and Creamy Tomato soup. The sandwich contained turkey, apple wood smoked bacon, greens, tomato and Gouda cheese doused with a small amount of their 'signature' sauce.
According to some folks who reverse engineer foods, the 'signature' sauce is ketchup based with lemon juice, Worcestershire and Tabasco sauce with a pinch of dried mustard. That sounds about right, it had a zing to it. The bread was their tomato basil bread, which you can also buy by the loaf. It was darker than white bread, a little more orange than wheat.

Angel had originally ordered a Greek salad with some clam chowder, but had been informed that  they were out of the chowder, so she subbed with cheesy broccoli soup. Each of our plates came with a softball sized soft roll. That looked pointless to me, I was already having a sandwich. Angel said it was for the soup, but that didn't make sense either, they'd provided a perfectly good spoon.
I like tomato soup, though I don't have it often as it is not very filling. This soup looked thick, bright and fresh. The sandwich was pretty. Folded deli turkey, bright lettuce, a strip of bacon, all on that slightly tanned bread. It hadn't been smooshed down. Beside it a nice looking, but pointless roll. In fact, when I did try to smoosh the sandwich, things slithered out all sides. I stuffed them back together and again, trying to make it small enough to fit into my mouth caused the slippery innards to act like like-pole magnets and fly apart. I determined that the main problem was the meat. Having been folded, it was not flat. The fold was much thicker than the ends, creating a wedge. The slippery tomato and friction-less lettuce had nothing to stick to, the whole thing was like ice on ice. The crust proved to be yet another problem. It was thick and neither soft nor crisp. It was, as best I can describe it, leathery. It would not compress, it could not be bitten through, I could only engage it in a destructive bout of tug of war. I only tried this once since that tugging caused the sandwich to come completely apart. I finally just ripped the crust off of the remaining mess of a sandwich. Both
Angel and Adam tried the crust, assuming I was exaggerating the problem. In the end, they agreed.
Though  the sandwich ingredients themselves were tasty, mechanically the sandwich was a serious fail. The whole point of a sandwich is convenience. A small one like this you should be able to eat it, stem to stern with one hand while you are holding a book in the  other. Not this one. It took both hands just to keep the thing together.
Angel was quite happy with her salad. "It's a Greek salad." she said, some sort of Greek dressing, some Greek olives, a little pepper. . .  Nothing outstanding, but it was fresh and satisfying. It's hard to screw up a salad. I could say the same about sandwiches, but they proved me wrong. As for the soup, Cheesy Broccoli, She liked it, but was really in the mood for chowder. My soup was good, though it looked like something had curdled a little in it. It may have been tomato pulp, it might have been thin curdles of cream, I couldn't tell, but near the end of the bowl, as the temperature dropped to tepid, it was texturally a little off-putting. There wasn't a lot of food to begin with, but having discarded a lot of the bread and stopping about two thirds of the way into the soup, there was ample room for more. Angel suggested dessert, with coffee. We rarely have dessert when we go out,  but it sounded like a great idea this time.

We headed back to the entry and looked over the pastry offerings. I'm not a fancy guy, I latched on to the cinnamon roll. Angel picked a smaller knotted pastry, a pecan twist. There was more than one style of coffee to choose from, some spicy, sweet concoctions, but also some plain, dark roast. I like a strong, dark coffee, so I filled my mug. Angel got something a little more girly.
The roll was simply gorgeous. All the food at SLBC seems to be made to appeal to the eye. We took our pastries and mugs back to our table and dug in. The cinnamon roll tasted exactly right, just the right combination of cinnamon, sugar, yeasty dough and frosting. I should just leave it at that. I really should, but I can't. the cinnamon roll was pretty dry. It tasted great, but it was very, very, day-old dry. Still better than no cinnamon roll though and the coffee was very good.
Summary:
I know I sound like  a whiner, but I really, really want to like SLBC. I just can't seem to find any food-reason to go there. Everything I've tried there has ended up being a bit of a disappointment. Not gross, disgusting or awful, just not up to my modest expectations. Even as a lunch destination, I have no real desire to pick SLBC over just about anywhere else. It's disappointing that a Bread Company's cinnamon roll is too dry and a sandwich bread is mechanically impossible to eat.  Is that asking too much?
The place wasn't expensive and I appreciate the less than Texas-sized portions. I like the freshness and clean-ness of the place and the food. I like the smell of baking bread, good coffee and stable WiFi. . .
Maybe this was a series of flukes, a too-old cinnamon roll, an overcooked loaf of tomato basil bread, slipperier then usual meat. . . but I really don't think so. If I were to guess, it is a problem of style over substance. Appearance over function. That's my opinion anyhow.
Angel doesn't agree, she likes the place and the food just fine. So this is really a draw. Maybe I'm just missing something.
Thoughts?

Trattoria Giuseppe

5442 Highway 21

Imperial, Mo

Birthday Feast!

Angel’s birthday is March 4. For years we have celebrated, if at all, any such event on the weekend before, due to our work schedules. So Saturday night was her choice, I offered to take her anywhere in the world she wanted. I felt fairly safe because she is burdened with the same sense of responsibility and frugality as I am, so she wasn’t going to say “Gallagher’s in NYC” or even better, the Captain’s Table in Solomons Maryland. (We have celebrated there before. Highly recommended!) She instead chose Trattoria Giuseppe, perhaps the finest all-around eatery in Jefferson County, Mo.

We don’t get to go very often since it is kind of pricey compared to other places. Not NYC expensive, but for this area kind of hard to justify more than infrequently.

Which makes a celebration there even more of a celebration.

Angel had not wanted much of a fuss over her day, even less so than usual. Neither of us are big on such things anyhow, but this one represented one of those really ugly round numbered birthdays and she’s been fighting the aging process tooth and nail. Not with surgery and harsh diets, but with abject denial. Not me, I long for the day when I will be dismissed as just another dirty old man.

I've promised not to mention her birthday to anyone, so keep it to your yourself, please.

I did not argue her restaurant choice, in fact I wasn’t at all surprised.

The Place:

About the least likely setting for the finest eatery in a county of 220,000 souls. It’s on old highway 21 amidst auto repair shops and junk yards. The signage is minimal, the bar next door could easily host a fleet of big motorcycles and their fat, bearded and leather and denim clad owners. The place is not really in Imperial, which is a relatively small town to begin with, it’s just the nearest post office. It is best described as just north of highway M on old 21. That will help the locals, but only a little.

The place is understated in appearance, inside and out.

There were outdoor tables in front, empty due to the winter chill. Music played though, Dean Martin crooning an Italian ballad.

Angel had made reservations, even at the early Five P.M. hour and that proved to be a wise thing, the place was all but full when we got there and filled completely by the time we left. This place is quite popular.

There’s no need to dress up, the vast majority of patrons were like us, clad in jeans. There were no suits, tuxes or slinky, shiny dresses anywhere.

The ample wait staff, all dressed in white cotton shirts and black slacks, dashed around efficiently and professionally. Inside the doorway the host verified the reservation and Giuseppe himself stepped over and greeted us. He does this at every serving. Every time we’ve been there he makes the rounds, everyone gets personally greeted. He’s classically Italian in appearance, not very tall, jet black hair except for a few gray streaks, loose fitting loud-print chef pants and a chef’s tunic. There’s no mistaking him. A genteel and proud man and rightfully so.

We were led to our table. They seated us near the back of the dining area, near the curtain-doored restroom area. I thought about complaining but there were not many other tables available and  Angel said she liked being back against the wall. After I sat down I agreed, it gave us a full view of the whole dining area.

We were offered a basket of sliced French-style bread, handed menus and asked about drinks. Tea, tea and Coke.

Everything on the menu looked good. This problem was further complicated since we’d tried several things and knew that everything we’d had was indeed very good.

When our drinks were delivered, Kelly, our server, told us about the special. ‘Surf and Turf, a filet with three jumbo shrimp.

I laid down my menu, so did Angel. Kelly stepped away for a moment and soon Adam set his menu aside as well.

Me: Surf and turf, an 8oz filet, medium rare, three grilled shrimp and a baked potato, a salad with the house dressing.

Angel: Surf and turf, filet, medium, asparagus and the same salad.

Adam: Pepper loin filet, cream pasta, and instead of salad, the day’s bacon potato soup.

Kelly wrote it all down, questioning us about options, making note of the details. I poured some olive oil into the little saucer, dashed on some pepper and Parmesan, and broke off and dipped a chunk of the bread. A simple delight, it also lubes the gullet for the feast to come.

Shortly the soup and salads arrived. I pulled out my camera, Adam sighed, and my little Nikon groaned and objected telling me I’d forgotten to feed it fresh batteries. It blinked out and the thing hummed itself into a nap. Normally I carry extra batteries, not this time. Adam didn’t seem to be too disappointed.

My camera was dead, so instead
of pictures of food, here's a photo
of my dog wearing a silly hat.

The salad at Giuseppe’s is wonderful. Simple lettuce, with a single cherry tomato, two dark, rough olives, a pepper pod, a chunk of artichoke heart, a couple of rings of red onion. All coated in a slightly sweet, yet light vinaigrette dressing with just enough pepper. I offered my artichoke and olives to Angel, I just don’t care for them as much as she does.

Angel dipped her teaspoon into Adam’s thick soup, sipped it and moaned approval. Adam nodded. That soup disappeared rather quickly. Although he said it may have been salty, that didn’t seem to slow him down. I sort of expect bacon soup to be salty.

Against my better judgment I dipped another slice of bread with my salad.

After the salads were done and the plates carted off, we glanced around at the growing crowd. The whole time we were there no more than one or two tables opened up at a time, and they were filled pretty quickly.

At one table there was an older group that shared a bottle of wine served in a silver ice stand. Another table was lined with Budweiser bottles. The mood was calm yet happy. Even the children were pretty well behaved.

The plates arrived, three steaks, still sizzling.

I unwrapped my potato from its space suit-like foil and shoved in the butter and sour cream.

I sliced into the perfectly grilled steak, sopped up a little of the steak butter that had been drizzled on it, and savored perfection. There was a slight char on the edge of the steak, the inside was moist and very tender, it melted on my ecstatic taste buds.

The table was quiet as we soaked in the food. Every detail was excellent. Angel applauded the asparagus, I marveled at the precision of the taste and texture of the potato and steak.

A little steak butter spilled into the potato and I was certain that this was exactly what heaven should taste like.

I couldn’t quite finish, that second slice of bread had been a little too much, but I had no regrets.

I asked the family about their meals, which I didn’t need to do, I saw it on their faces.

Angel summed it up when telling me about her steak. “It’s like a fluffy cloud of meat.”

Summary:

Everything about Giuseppe’s is very good.

The staff is always professional and efficient. The food cannot be topped, the ambiance is casual, easy, yet classy. The place is run as professionally and expert as any place I’ve been in the area.

Of course there’s a price to pay for this.

The meal came to eighty eight dollars before the tip. That’s a lot for a meal for three in this area. But trust me on this, it’s worth every penny.

We passed on dessert, we were full. However we did stop on the way home at Dairy Queen and picked up an ice cream birthday cake for later.