Beer is the new Wine

We celebrated a friend's birthday at Baltimore's Brewer's Art.  It's got four distinct spaces, giving me the initial impression that it just didn't know what it wanted to be.  Through the main entrance on Charles Street, it's a good-looking bar with cool woodwork and high ceilings.  The bright space then succumbs to its living room beatnik spill-over where philosophizing seems encouraged while lounging in comfortable and deep upholstered chairs.  That space meets up with the maitre d's stand which shields a gorgeously classic dining area where a jacket could have been required if we were still living in that kind of era.  But before entering that space, you could veer down the stairs to the left and find yourself in a completely different kind of divey dungeon where pub fare rules and the bathrooms are painted black and graffitied.  So can you blame me for wondering what was going on?

We found some cushy chairs in the lounge as we waited for the others in our party.  Eric got the sampler tray of everything they had on tap.  As I made my way around their lighter brews for the summer, I'm going to just say it straight out.  Despite the cool names like Ozzy, Resurrection, and Sublimation, they were disappointing.  I'm of the Ommegang and Chimay Blue ilk.  And if that's what you also like, you and I both would not be enjoying a pint of ANY of these.  

So I moved onto their extensive beer list to peruse their "Guest Beers."  They break them out by country, and the Belgians are broken out even by whether it's really made by the monks or not.  No doubt these guys know what they're talking about when it comes to beer.  It's just unfortunate that I couldn't get into their drafts.  But we shall revisit the discussion of "their beer" in just a moment.

I chose the satisfying Tripel Karmeliet with its golden color and refreshingly mild flavor. 

We were seated in that adoringly classic dining room with modern touches, and there was a sense of tentative hopefulness.  I've been skeptical about places that purport to have great beer AND great food.  In my broad experience of eating out, very, very rarely do the two meet in quality.  Either one or the other is the king of the owner's heart, and you can tell.  So we were hoping for the best, knowing that if it didn't work out, we'd have to celebrate that same birthday another weekend.  

Alas, the menu was creative and inspiring, driving much table discussion as to what would maximize gluttonous pleasure.  The appetizers were all winners.  The opulence of the Roasted Berkshire Pork Belly over cornbread and a rich sweet-savory Bourbon sauce, the freshness and vigor of the watermelon, feta and olive salad, but the knock-you-off-your-feet Ceviche was unfortunately, not mine.  The two glasses it was served in was combined en platter, and I don't recall ever having a ceviche with such a well balanced flavor.  Most times, it's way too acidic, but here, the flavor combination is impeccable, as is the generous portion of the seafood medley.

I dare say the appetizers may have upstaged the entrees.  Steak Frites was center stage with 75% of the carnivorous table ordering the dish.  We'd read much about how great the dish was and how the Rosemary Garlic Fries were out of this world.  I ordered the Pan-Seared Cobia, a nice, flaky mild fish that I would not hesitate to order again, but I'll admit that I was more intrigued with the Corn and Spring Onion Risotto.  Decadent, with a creamy mouthfeel, it did not disappoint.  The Steak, however, was met with less enthusiasm.  High expectations combined with the fact that we've got game with a steak cooked in our backyard, and this was a table of hard-to-please customers.  The fries, though, were pretty bangin'.  

But here was the ultimate finishing touch to the meal, and it gets back to the trade of the Brewer's Art, and then some.  Over the course of the meal, we enjoyed two of their brews in their liter bottles, in the same fashion as we would two bottles of wine.  Both were fantastic, but the Green Peppercorn Tripel took me to another space entirely.  Even upon sniffing the beer, you could smell it.  Then sipping it, it's such an unbelievably clear flavor of specifically green peppercorn, I just couldn't get over it.  And it was a KNOCKOUT pairing with the food!  

This meal changed my mind in a few different ways.  First, it's now my go-to example of a place that knows how to do both beer AND food well.  Second, I'm gamely and solidly a new Ambassador of Beer as the new Wine in fine dining.

Cafe Gia's in Baltimore's Little Italy

There's a great little casual place in Little Italy that has a very unique dish that sets it apart from the rest of the Italian places in which I've had the pleasure of dining.

The atmosphere is intimate and cozy, and on a beautiful night, the large windows make it feel like you're outside.  This dish...is the amazing one.  It's Lobster and Crab Ravioli in a balsamic vinegar and CURRY sauce.  Curry, I said.  It's so uniquely amazing and crazy delicious.  Sweetness from the balsamic vinegar, pungent aroma from the curry.  This thing is rich, luscious, and deadly.  Really, I mean it - it has a lot of heart-clogging fat and cream, man.  Nevertheless, I'll be back for this delicacy.  It's unreplicated elsewhere.

Don't get me wrong, though.  The other dishes were quite good in their own right.  Here's their Gnocchi in Bolognese sauce.  I was perfectly happy with this guy until I tasted the Ravioli, which wasn't my order, of course.  But this was certainly healthier, and given the equation of nutrition + taste, this would take the cake.  Meaty, balanced, with a good tomato flavor that was stripped of the acidity.  Good, but I've had it before from any number of great restaurants.  

The final item of note for the evening - because the grilled octopus didn't blow my socks off - the wine.  I had originally wanted a Montepulciano since I've been in love with it ever since my visit to the Monica's Trattoria in Boston.  Alas, they didn't have it, but they did have this goody good.  We polished this off between the two of us quickly and efficiently.  Like the James Bond of the drinking world.  If only...

Cafe Gia's

410 S High St
Baltimore, MD 21202-4335
(410) 685-6727

Da Mimmo - Baltimore

Several months ago, Eric and I were in Baltimore, meeting friends for dinner. We got there with hours to go, and hadn't had lunch, so we were left in a hunger purgatory, where eating a full meal at that point would have ruined dinner later, but waiting until dinner might mean fainting in the middle of Barnes & Noble from low blood sugar. So as we wandered through Little Italy, we happened upon a place called Da Mimmo. We walked into the dimly lit restaurant that forked into the bar on the left, the dining room on the right. We were the only ones there, and it took a minute to find a live soul. Then again, we almost left because on a day that was sunny and beautiful, I could hardly think of staying in a place that would close off all the brightness and leave me in darkness.

"We're looking for a snack right now, really," we said. The maitre'd smiled and was more than willing to seat us. What to get? We looked at the menu, and everything was appealing. The maitre'd said, "If I may recommend something, the Spaghetti alla Campania is delicious, and I could split the plate for you."

"Yeah, but there's no meat in it, and I really like to have some kind of saturated fat with every meal," I said, in so many words.

"You won't be disappointed," he said, and then it was done.

The dish came, searing hot, with a vegetable ragu of grape tomatoes, zucchini, eggplant, onions, mushrooms, and possibly some other vegetables, laying on a bed of Spaghetti al dente. I'm sure it was a very simple recipe - there wasn't great complexity, and yet, it was, perhaps, the best pasta I had ever had. Truly. Really. I hardly noticed there wasn't any meat, because I was in love with eating the dish exactly the way it was.

We vowed we would be back.

This past Friday, we picked up my mom from the Baltimore airport, and we headed straight to Da Mimmo for a full Italian meal. We were seated by an open window on the second floor, where we could glimpse the waning sun and catch a cool breeze. The servers at Da Mimmo really want you to relax. They don't even give you the menu until you ask for it. At first, I thought they were being neglectful. I mean, come on, we're at a restaurant for goodness sakes, can we have the menu? Then I caught myself. Rare is a restaurant that doesn't try to push you out the door as soon as you were seated in order to increase turnover and sales. At that very moment, I started to relax.

We all ordered something from their very extensive specials menu. Osso Buco served with risotto, Veal with a black truffle sauce, and Chilean Sea Bass on Penne with Puttanesca sauce. All this only after our appetizer of what else? Spaghetti alla Campania. Oh, and some of the most stellar garlic bread I've ever had. 1,000 calories each slice, I'm sure, but eaten in moderation? Gosh, it's worth it...

The Chilean Sea Bass was delicate and perfectly cooked. The tang from the capers and olives of the puttanesca sauce was inspiring, but this dish was not my favorite of the night.

The Veal in black truffle sauce was tender, and the sauce reminded me of an Asian fermented black bean sauce - a savoriness where a little goes a long way. It didn't come with a starch or any substantial vegetables to speak of, which would have greatly leveraged a very special truffle sauce, or at the very least, helped to cut the saltiness. Still, not the favorite.

Lastly, the Osso Buco. An incredibly generous portion of bone-in veal braised in a sumptuous sauce that laid on delicious risotto. I can't remember all the details, I'll just have to refamiliarize myself with the leftovers in the fridge. But this. This was the star of the night. So why do I have so little to say? Because there was a harmonious fusion of sorts, when all the ingredients come together and just meld. It's at that point that I just don't care what all the elements are. I just know they taste good together.

We left hundreds of dollars poorer, but happy. Sometimes, it's worth it.