Anytime we go on a vacation lately, we seem to end up with a lovely array of matches from bars and restaurants that we visited.  They, in turn, end up in a bowl near the fireplace.  Because of their tactile superiority, I'll almost always end up picking a box of wooden matches over the cardboard matchbooks.  These establishments, thus, stay much more familiar in my memory.  They also become subconsciously associated with the pleasant crackle and warmth of the fireplace, until the mere mention of one these restaurants fills me with an overwhelming wave of heat and pleasure.

"Bayona."
"Ooo."
"Bayona."
"Ooooo."
"Bayona!"
"Stop that."

There you have it:  the secret to a successful bar or restaurant.  Ok, maybe not, but I do love it when places give out wooden matches.  Fortunately that's just one of many pleasurable things about Lola Bistro (630 Monroe Ave, Rochester, NY 585.454.1066). 

I was there last night, for a light meal and some social interaction at their bar (as Laura was stuck working overnight).  Their stylish candlelit wine cellar decor and large windows in the front are always inviting.  And even though I haven't seen the same bartender more than twice there (I've been about 8 times), almost all those I have seen have had no shortage charm, conversation, knowledge, and looks.  I asked the bartender last night for a bourbon old-fashioned, and after asking the right questions he mixed up the most perfect old-fashioned I've had outside of New Orleans.  He explained that his grandfather had taught him to mix the drink when he was 12.  Cool.

I've tried tried several of the appetizers here on various occasions.  I haven't tried any of their entrees, because I'm becoming more and more convinced that only ordering appetizers is a superior way to experience a restaurant.  Your sensual pleasure, chances of disappointment, wallet, and waist size are all affected in positive ways with this approach.  (TastingMenu has a good entry on the subject.  Scroll down to Friday the 3rd).  Lola's appetizers range from $8-12 and their quality ranges from good to incredible and addicting.  The particular appetizer that occupies the top of that scale is the Pan Fried Potato Gnocchi (with smoked tomato, sage, and garlic cream sauce).  It's simple, doesn't arrive at the table looking all that special, and knocks me off my chair when I bite into one of the little things.

Last night, I just felt like a lite dinner, so I ordered the Pecan Crusted Goat Cheese Salad ($8).  The menu reads: "over baby greens with crispy pancetta and a sun-dried cherry-champagne vinaigrette".  It also included a generous handful of terribly yummy halved grape tomatoes and slivered red onions.  I've made a salad like this before with panko and herb coated fried goat cheese.  The combination of flavors here was just so much more subtly and expertly executed than mine that I had the slightest tinge of an inferiority complex (don't fear, that quickly passed).  The pecan coating on the cheese was substantial and boldly flavored while still allowing the tanginess of the goat cheese to not be forgotten.  The dressing was a beautiful fruity understatement.  And well, the pancetta probably looks good enough in the picture for me to just allow you to salivate on your keyboard without saying any more. 

The bartender, Jeff, described chef Dave as "a f*&@ing wizard".  I'm forced to agree.  The dining room at Lola may be a little too dark and the music (usually great latin jazz) a little to loud for some people.  Their loss.

We had a dish with broccoli raab again last night.  This time, however, the bitterness was tamed, and the beauty of these powerfully flavored greens was allowed to come through.  I mentioned in this entry that even with boiling these greens for 5 minutes they still turned out much too bitter.  This time we turned to The Best Recipe for help.  The Cook's Illustrated chefs figured out that indeed the raab does need to be boiled, but the amount of water makes a big difference.  The more water, the less bitter.  As simple as that.  Laura used this in a spicy coconut Thai dish.  The combination of the powerful greens and the bold Thai flavors was an absolute delight.  We both had seconds.    

I use my picture of this fine cocktail, the Sidecar, as an illustration of a piece of technology that makes my culinary ramblings viable.  First, the drink.  Two parts brandy, one part Cointreau, and one part fresh lemon juice.  Shake well with ice until completely chilled and strain into a chilled cocktail glass with a confectionary sugar dusted rim and a twist.  Cocktail has a little more to say about this potable.  I haven't tried much, but I've yet to find a bartender around here who knew how to make this without looking it up or being told.  A bit of a sad state of affairs, but not really since two of those efforts resulted in the bartender handing over this great drink free of charge.  Be nice to your bartenders, folks.

Now, for the technology.  I would have never made it past one or two posts to this site if I had to sit at a desk, after doing it all day at work, and type away.  My wireless network completely changes that.  To be able to throw myself down with horrible posture in any comfy spot in the house and be productive is of enormous value.  I can play with this site, surf the web, look up recipes while in the kitchen, and still be socially interactive.  I really do get excited when technology actually makes my life easier.  Ok, I'll stop now before I start saying things like "Now, how much with would pay!?"  But, seriously, if you have a cable modem and a laptop, click on the "wireless network" link above and buy some hardware for you and all your friends.  :-)

There must have been some type of ripple in the blogsphere last night because I wasn't the only one making beurre blanc.  Robert Peyton at Appetites was making some beurre blanc as well, and rather than writing it up myself, I'll just let you cruise on over to his site and check that out.  There were some variations though.  I used sherry and lemon juice as for the acidity in mine, and threw in a sprig of rosemary while reducing in the first step.  (I may have used more butter too)

The delightful beurre blanc accompanied a couple experiments with techniques I had seen recently.  The first was a method for making crisp potato rounds (or ovals) that I had seen Emeril use for Potato and Wild Mushroom Napoleons.  Slice the potatoes on a mandolin, oil a baking sheet, place the potatoes in a single layer on the sheet, S&P, oil, and another baking sheet on top.  Put these in a 375F oven for about 30 minutes.  Mine didn't come out as crisp and golden brown as his, but they tasted great, and in general I think this will be a good way to prepare potatoes for many dishes.

The second experiment was trying to remove some of the intense bitterness from Broccoli Raab.  I saw a food tv show where the broccoli raab was par-boiled for 10 minutes before sautéing in order to remove the bitterness.  I thought this sounded like way too long and that I would end up with an unrecognizable green mush.  So, I boiled it for five minutes instead.  Unfortunately it remained very bitter.  It was bitter to the point of overpowering everything else on the plate.  (ed. note, I've since figured out the trick, to be included in a later entry)

Despite the failed bitterness extraction, this dish was still pretty pleasant since the beurre blanc was lovely with the potatoes and a lightly poached egg.

I was a bit disappointed by the lack of depth of flavor in this experiment.  I seared a couple chicken breasts in a skillet, then removed them.  Then I added some celery, garlic, ginger, lemon grass, green curry paste to the same skillet and sautéed this for a couple minutes.  I deglazed the pan with the juice of a lime and then added a couple cups of chicken stock and some coconut milk.  I brought this up to a boil and then added the liquid to a baking dish with the chicken and baked in a 375F oven for 20 minutes.  I served the chicken and sauce over some cooked vermicelli noodles with fresh cilantro, mint, sweet bell pepper, and green onions. 

Don't know where the real flaws are here.  It sounds good as I describe it now, but it was just lacking.  The chicken was definitely a weak point.  I thought I could infuse a bit of life into a frozen chicken breast with the braising, but, alas, it was bland. 

This was yesterday afternoon's snack.  Toasted french bread with sliced Peppadews, marinated olives, garlic, feta, butter, and good extra virgin olive oil.  Slice a clove of garlic in half and rub it on the bread.  Butter the bread and add your toppings minus the olive oil.  Put in toaster oven.  Drizzle with olive oil.

This was an extremely yummy snack, but the most notable part of this entry is not the simple delightful recipe.  It's the fact that I am eating and enjoying olives.  Olives, of which I claimed a severe dislike just a year ago, are now heartily welcomed by my taste buds.  I simply decided that my aversion to them was ridiculous, when so many people get such pleasure from the little brined fruits.  So I started training myself to like them.

Jeffrey Steingarten has written a great essay on the subject that everyone should read.  The key point is that there are no genetic food aversions, it's all just learned behavior.  I couldn't agree with him more. 

"I have always thought that people who keep a long list of certifiably delicious foods that they avoid are at least as troubled as people who avoid sex, except that the latter will probably seek psychiatric help, while food phobics rationalize their problem in the name of genetic inheritance, allergy, vegetarianism, matters of taste, nutrition, food safety, obesity, or a sensitive nature."

So the next time you encounter a food where your first impulse is to profess how much you despise it, ponder, at least briefly, whether you just need to grow up.