[Sca-cooks] OOP - Cholesterol singing happily through my veins...

[A F Murphy]

Ooh! Where?

No, that's not an irrational question, and I can't just look it up in
the phone book. He could easily have been in any of three counties, and
the fourth is not too unlikely. (I doubt you were in Staten Island...)

Was a miserable day, wasn't it? I didn't venture out...

Anne

Phil Troy/ G. Tacitus Adamantius wrote:

> Hullo, the list!
>
> After a day permanently accompanied by strains of "A Night on Bald
> Mountain", gray, rainy, and an entire city full of crazed _shoppers_
> (of whom we, that is, myself, my lady wife, and Evil Spawn (tm) were
> three), we decided to stop and refuel, and various logistical
> problems ensued, like places in the vicinity being closed
> (temporarily or permanently), and so on.
>
> Finally we stumbled across a tiny, unprepossessing hole in the wall
> that advertised in big letters, "Steakhouse", and in smaller letters
> the name, "Mi Tio".
>
> I began to dedect a pattern in the overall ambience, and figured
> (rightly) it was a South American (in this case, Argentine) grill
> house. The Kid was in non-experimental "feed me now" mode (I figured
> the half skirt steak with fries was the way to go), Ceandra opted for
> chuletas (grilled pork chops), and I, having spotted a man nearby
> enjoying what looked like a large animal blown up with dynamite, the
> pieces swept up and grilled, and put on a plate, went immediately and
> without hesitation for the parillada, the mixed grill.
>
> I exaggerate. Slightly. It turned out not to be all of a large
> animal, but rather smaller bits of several animals (hence the term,
> mixed). I've seen larger assortments, but this was as good a version
> as I've ever seen.  It contained two rows of sliced beef short ribs
> (cut kind of like what Jews call flanken), marinated in lemon juice,
> garlic, and olive oil for a long time, then slowly grilled till
> tender. Almost barbecued, but not quite. Also a chorizo (smokier and
> less peppery than the ones I normally encounter), a morcilla (nearly
> identical to German blutwurst, and very unlike the black puddings of
> the UK, but also unlike the morcillas bulked out with rice, such as
> you might find in Puerto Rico), chinchulines, three-inch lengths of
> small intestine, seasoned and grilled, again, until tender but not
> burned. In addition, the best sweetbreads I've ever eaten; parboiled,
> sliced, reseasoned, maybe floured very lightly, and grilled. There's
> something about grilled sweetbreads; the charred edges offset the
> sweet richness and prevent the meat from being cloying.
>
> Evil Spawn's (tm) half a skirt steak (he had curled the lip and
> raised one eyebrow scornfully when the waitress pointed out a few
> desultory "children's menu" items) turned out to be hanging over the
> edge of the plate, perfectly cooked (medium rare), again, marinated
> with lemon, garlic, olive oil, and maybe some oregano. After
> protesting he'd never be able to eat the whole thing (and remembering
> to thank me abjectly for advising against the whole skirt steak), he
> proceeded to wolf down the whole thing as if food was something he
> had previously only been told about, several years ago. His fries (a
> plateful that would probably feed only _half_ the Denver Broncos)
> were perfect, greaseless, lightly salted, and crispy, made from the
> ever-so-slightly sweet russet potatoes favored by restaurants like
> this one. In short, real French fries.
>
> My salad contained honest-to-gosh mixed [domesticated] greens (well,
> an attempt, anyways, with various lettuces predominating over
> watercress and what _might_ have been recau -- mutant cilantro leaves
> on steroids), with the requisite heavy-on-the-sliced-raw-onion, and a
> few inexplicable slices of cooked beet. Decent vinegar and real olive
> oil on the table, plus copious lemon wedges...
>
> Flan/creme caramel for The Kid (stolen in part by my spouse), with
> some kind of thick caramel sauce, like a caramel ganache, warmed, and
> whipped cream, which looked like the fake stuff in a can, but which
> proved to be the real thing piped through a pastry bag.
>
> Real coffee, or so my wife, who has coffee flowing through her veins,
> informed me... I thought it would be an insult to such a place to ask
> for decaf, so did without.
>
> I think the bill was about 40 bucks... pretty extraordinary for what
> we got, around here.
>
> All we need now is a bunch of vacuous trendies to discover the place
> and demand to know if anything was flash-fried...
>
> Adamantius
>
>
> --
> "No one who cannot rejoice in the discovery of his own mistakes
> deserves to be called a scholar."
>     -DONALD FOSTER
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