It takes two to make a thing go right

If you worked in downtown Indy back in the mid 1990s, chances are you remember Essential Edibles, a quirky and delicious little lunch spot unusually situated in the basement of an old Catholic church in the Lockerbie area. And if you were like me, you were sad to see it close in 1997.

Fans can rejoice again — after years of private chef work, former EE owner Becky Hostetter is up and running again. Literally. Together with her business/chef partner John Garnier, Hostetter is cooking up a storm in her new Duos food truck. Customers log onto Twitter and Facebook to find the mobile kitchen’s location, dishing up lunch Wednesday, Thursday and Friday from various downtown parking spots; breakfast at the downtown farmers market; and occasional weekend meals in other destinations.

What’s cool about Duos is that the chefs change up their short menu of gourmet soups, sandwiches and salads every week. And because Hostetter is a vegetarian and Garnier is a meat-eater, they make sure to offer something for everyone — usually a couple of sandwiches, several kinds of side salad, maybe a soup or two. Everything is organic and locally sourced as much as possible.

I’d tracked down the truck with an editor friend on a blustery day back in March. The weather curtailed sitting outside on Mass Ave, so we ate in my car. The food was good, and we swapped tastes of everything — the Cajun meatloaf sandwich had a nicely spicy kick, but I preferred the Big Al’s sandwich, a drippy, gooey grilled Fontina cheese panini sort of thing with roasted red peppers, balsamic vinegar and basil. Yum.

I revisited Duos on Thursday just this week, bringing hubby along for the ride. It was a little cool outside, but the weather was sunny and beautiful, and the Military Park location was perfect for enjoying an al fresco lunch on the downtown canal. We parked at the White River State Park garage, walked across from the Indiana State Museum and waited in a quickly moving line to get our food.

Duos in action

On this day, our options included pimento cheese and herb roasted turkey sandwiches, wheatberry and orzo pasta salads, green gazpacho and asparagus soups, and an almond cake for dessert. We decided to try both the sandwiches and salads, washed down with bottles of Maine ginger brew and root beer.

Both sandwiches were served on the same hearty whole-wheat buns — hubby’s turkey contained thick slices of flavorful meat, avocado, lettuce, spouts and Jarlsberg cheese. He pronounced it delicious at first bite.

herb roasted turkey sandwich et al

My pimento cheese sammy consisted of a generous scoop of the cheese filling with lettuce, tomato and a slice of onion. The cheese was yummy, but very heavily laced with olives. So much so that it was difficult to discern any other flavor. This was perfectly ok with me because I love olives, but the intensity of the briny saltiness might have been a little overpowering for some diners. Serving it on flatter bread and spreading it out a little thinner might have helped distribute the flavor a little more evenly.

pimento cheese sandwich etc.

The salads were both awesome IMO – served in little plastic cups that looked deceptively small at first, but offered a surprising amount in the end. The delicious wheatberry salad was unlike anything I’ve tried before. Studded with small crunchy bits of organic carrot and red onion in a mild vinaigrette dressing, the chewy wheatberry grains were really satisfying. I loved it, as well as the orzo pasta with roasted veggies that reminded me of something similar I’d eaten at Essential Edibles back in the day.

orzo pasta salad and wheatberry salad

Hubby has a beef, though. I believe I may have mentioned his hatred of onions once or twice? Basically, if he even thinks he sees one, smells one or tastes one anywhere in a dish, it’s game over. He won’t even take a courtesy bite to be nice. So if there’s one thing he hates about dining out, it’s when onions make an appearance without forewarning. It’s ok when the menu advertises them in a dish, as he can then plan accordingly to avoid it. But when they just show up in something he was otherwise really looking forward to eating, he gets upset.

Three out of the four items we ordered for our Duos lunch contained onions. My pimento cheese sandwich included a whole raw slice, which I picked off, but still immediately disqualified it from hubby tasting. (He claims that even if you remove the onion, it’s too late at that point, having already “tainted” the rest of the dish.) The salads both included small slivers of red onion, caramelized and soft so they weren’t raw, but offensive to hubby just the same. Sigh. I think the wheatberry salad mentioned an onion inclusion on the chalkboard menu, but the orzo pasta salad description just held a vague reference to roasted vegetables.

I’m not trying to pick on Duos here, this actually happens to us quite frequently in restaurants. We try to remember to always ask when ordering, but sometimes we forget and get nailed. The point hubby wants to make is that he feels menus should alert diners to onions in any and all dishes, no ifs, ands or buts. I think he may start lobbying Congress for a full disclosure bill.

The price for each Duos sandwich with a side of salad was $7.50, so with two meals and two drinks tacked on, our total bill came to $20 even. A little pricier than fast food, but certainly in keeping with what you’d pay for a nice casual lunch for two downtown. And definitely in line with the quality of the ingredients and creativity of the chefs preparing them. I’ll be back…

For more info:  

http://www.duosindy.com/

Date night at Napolese

I’ve been dining out like crazy this past month, but mostly for work and am thus bound by confidentiality!

Trying a new approach for this entry… hubby and I had dinner last night at Napolese, and each wrote a separate entry about the experience. Below is our he-said/she-said review:

MY REVIEW:

Being a big Café Patachou fan, I was psyched to try out Martha Hoover’s newest invention – Napolese.

This cozy artisanal pizza place is located just around the corner from the original Patachou on 49^th Street just off Pennsylvania. Hubby and I decided to go for dinner on one of our semi-regular date nights, but hadn’t made a reservation. We got a little nervous when we drove past looking for parking and saw waiting customers spilling out onto the sidewalk.

After quickly discussing a few alternatives, we decided to go for it and see just how long the wait was. The congenial hostess told us we could expect 20 to 30 minutes, but offered to get us a glass of wine to enjoy in the meantime. As it turned out, there was no need; we were led to a table within 10 minutes, if that.

Napolese is surprisingly small. About the same size as Café Patachou. One little dining room and that’s it. There are a half dozen or so outdoor tables, but hubby wasn’t thrilled about al fresco dining in a long-sleeved black shirt in near 90 degrees. I think we were both relieved to receive seats inside near the window.

Décor is fairly subdued — dark wood, one bookcase full of books and glass knick-knacks, another full of wine bottles. A row of bar seating gives diners a chance to check out the pizza-making process up close and personal. Cool. There’s really not much room to play with, but they’ve done a good job of making it feel classy, not kitschy.

You should know going in, this place is LOUD. This many people in one small dining room makes for a hell of a lot of noise. Unless you happen to read lips, dinner conversation at a reasonable decibel is not a possibility. Hubby and I had a hard time hearing each other across the two-top.

We selected wine right off the bat from a short but decent selection of Italian varietals. I opted for a glass of Valpolicella, always a dependable choice, I find. Hubby got a refreshing Lambrusco, served nicely chilled and appropriately fizzy (I once heard someone call this “soda pop wine” and it’s always stuck with me). Wines are available by the glass, full bottles and quarter liters, which you don’t see very often here but are common in Italy. (The $10 to $15 per quarter price tag is quite a bit higher than the 2 euros you spend on the same amount of excellent house red or white in Milan, but I digress…)

Water is brought to each table in a pretty resealable glass bottle, and bottles are replaced as needed. Hubby and I wondered if they really just fill up the bottles with regular old tap, but no matter. It made for a nice presentation. While we were perusing the menu, we received a small gratis dish of tasty marinated olives – I detected thyme in the herb mix. And, the olives were already pitted, thank God. It’s hard to look sexy on a date night when you’re trying to discreetly spit out a gnawed pit and then look for somewhere to dispose of it. Hubby and I were both starving, and these olives disappeared quickly.

The menu isn’t huge — a few appetizers, a handful of salads, a couple Neapolitan sandwiches, and of course, the pizzas. You can choose from house-recipe pies, or create your own from a list of (sometimes slightly odd) gourmet toppings like pancetta, quail eggs, arugula and fingerling potatoes.

The baked goat cheese with tomato sauce starter was tempting, but seemed a little redundant in a pizza place, as did bruschetta. We went straight for the Napolese double chopped house salad. A good move, as the huge bowl was plenty for us to comfortably split. The shredded romaine was generously studded with cheese, roasted peppers, white beans and toothsome chunks of pepperoni and capricola, all tossed with a subtle red wine vinaigrette. I loved that everything was chopped small and manageable by fork – no awkward wrestling with big unwieldy leaves of lettuce. This hefty bowl of greens was like a salad and starter all in one.

Napolese chopped salad

Having been to Milan twice within the past year, our pizza expectations are fairly high for a restaurant that claims authentic Italian-style pies. After some discussion, hubby and I went for the classic choice – a buffalo margherita pizza. The thin-crusted pizzas here are all the same size, eight slices worth, but not heavy like a deep-dish variety would be. We saw several tables ordering a pizza per person, but that seemed like overkill to me. I knew I’d probably only need a piece or two to be satisfied and would only end up taking the rest home, as many of our fellow diners seemed to be doing.

Must say, when our pizza arrived at the table, it looked and smelled delicious. Obviously handmade with melty cheese, a scattering of thickly chiffonaded basil, and a few big crispy dough bubbles emerging in the outer crust. We eagerly pulled slices onto our plates and got to work. I’m sorry to say, I was disappointed. The dough in the center of the pizza was pretty undercooked and could have withstood another minute or two in the oven. Subsequently, the sauce in the very middle hadn’t had time to thicken up in the heat of the oven and ran off the pizza in a watery mess when we pulled the slices apart. It wasn’t inedible, just a little underdone.

Napolese pizza margherita

The toppings were good, though, just the right amount of sauce, bubbly circles of melted buffalo mozzarella cheese, bracing basil and deliciously sweet little roasted grape tomatoes (I could easily have eaten a dish of these as a starter with some bread – note to self, experiment with this idea at home). The crust got better the closer you got to the outer edge and I really wished it had been cooked that consistently good throughout. In spite of its imperfections, we still finished the entire pizza between the two of us.

For dessert, I had my eye on the affrogato di gelato, advertised on the menu as vanilla gelato topped with espresso. Mmmm. When we ordered one to share, our server asked us if we’d like to sub another flavor gelato for the vanilla, an option we didn’t realize was available, but happily accepted. This was a great call on her part. The dessert arrived very quickly, a good-sized glass goblet/dish of hazelnut gelato with a cup of espresso on the side for us to pour over at will. (Hubby is the espresso aficionado, so read on for his thoughts on said coffee below.) The combination of coffee and hazelnut was fantastically rich and nutty, almost like a sweet sesame flavor, and we happily polished off the whole thing in short order.

Napolese affrogato

I have to make a point to mention that service at Napolese was prompt, friendly and efficient throughout the meal. Accommodating but never irritating or insincere, we never had to wait more than few minutes if we needed anything. And for such a small and busy place, we never felt rushed to give up our table. Kudos.

Our total bill was $73 without tip. Pretty expensive for a salad, one pizza and a dessert, although when you consider that we did have five glasses of wine between  us, not unheard of, I suppose. A good meal definitely, but thinking about it the day after, I’m not sure it quite lived up to the hype. Think next time, I’d still prefer a Quattro Fromaggio at Bazbeaux.

HUBBY’S REVIEW:

The fair Amy looked ravishing in a dark dress and a new dark hairdo. By coincidence I was wearing dark trousers and a dark shirt (I don’t have anything else). We climbed into our black Explorer and off we went to a restaurant staffed by young lovelies also wearing black. If Robert Palmer was sitting in the corner smiling I would not have been surprised except for the fact that he is actually dead.

On the other hand, Napolese was far from dead, so busy in fact that we circled past a second time to wonder on the wait time. Finding a spot we walked past the outdoor drinkers and were informed that 30 minutes was to be expected.

There isn’t any bar here where you can actually sit and wait for a table whilst enjoying a glass so I was a little alarmed as, wearing only black, with long sleeves, I certainly did not fancy standing around outside for half an hour, sweating with the sun beaming down on my shiny bald head. The 15 or so drinkers outside were almost all wearing the local uniform of tshirt and shirts, being a Euro these items are of course for painting houses only.

Food critic Amy Lynch must have had her photo circled around the kitchens of Indianapolis as one to be feared as we were seated in less than five minutes, not having time to even grab a glass of wine. To my delight we were also seated inside. My lovely wife loves to eat outside, but for me this is an option I generally do not partake of as it is hot and uncomfortable, and at this particular location proximity to the local vehicular traffic was not of interest.

So, inside we were.

We were seated close to the window, and I have to say the background noise was deafening, making conversation almost impossible. Having just moved on from the ‘will we wait ot not’ conversation I was certain Amy thought I didn’t want to be there and this conversational challenge was not going to help. This was a date night and I did not want anything to go wrong. On the other hand, the surrounding noise made disagreeing almost impossible. If we were to have a disagreement it would be a full on screaming match and in 5 years of marriage we have not hit that spot so we settled in to what was another lovely romantic evening.

I selected a Lambrusco, not often to be found and sometimes very refreshing (in this case it worked as I had two more), and Amy had a Valpolicella. The menu was not the longest, but for an indecisive fellow like myself, long enough. Having read some excellent reviews in various publications and of course having just come back from Italy a few weeks ago, we were looking forward to making our comparisons. A little plate of olives arrived with our drinks and were devoured almost instantly, mostly by me. Sorry, babe.

Amy will surely elaborate on the menu in full, and as you likely already know we split the chopped salad and a pizza. The salad was excellent, and I could have had another if it weren’t for the need for pizza space. I do not think I have ever heard anyone say they could have had another salad, and it is certainly a first for me, so we were off to a lightning start.

The pizza arrived in a reassuring ‘pizza made from scratch with love and attention’ timeframe, and it looked fantastic. My knife and fork disappeared with my salad plate and the waitress rushed to find replacements, returning with a fork. I have often found a knife useful when eating pizza in a restaurant but assumed we were in for a crispy affair here so was not too bothered.

As pizzas go, it was good, but not great. It was a little runny and really could have done with a little more time in the oven, as the dough right at the centre was not completely cooked. We still polished it off so it can’t have been that bad.

It was at this point we noticed just how good the service was. Water appeared at the table unobtrusively, the waitress managed to re-fill my glass without Amy noticing, and we never felt rushed or upsold. We were in the driving seat and it was nice to linger and not feel the need to leave. When Amy was finally getting to the end of her glass our waitress appeared and asked if we would like another, and once we mentioned dessert made a suggestion we were delighted with.

The hazelnut gelato with espresso was absolutely lovely. Reading the menu earlier in the week we both thought that would be a choice to share, and were not disappointed. Having the little cup of espresso for you to pour over the ice cream was a nice touch. Yummy!

The espresso served with the ice cream saved me a potential disappointment. By no means an expert, I do like a nice espresso and cannot for the life of me understand why restaurants purchase this very expensive machinery only to use it improperly. Pet hates are no crema, cold espresso, or served in a cold cup. I can bang out a fine effort on a $34 E-bay machine in my office so the restaurants of Indiana have no excuse, in my cranky opinion. Anyhow the cup was cold and the crema sadly lacking.

The tab came to $73 plus tip, not bad for an upscale dining experience but at the same quite a lot given that we shared all three courses. The pizza did not live up to expectations, but the salad and service can hide a multitude of sins. The noise really was an issue, and I would not recommend anyone taking their girlfriend to break up, you really would need to shout out whatever it was you could no longer stand about her. I was (retrospectively) surprised that no bread was offered, but given it was a pizza restaurant not so surprising and the olives were a fine replacement.

Would I go back? Possibly, but I would not rush back.

One hot Mama

I was recently asked for the 18th time, “ Have you been to the new Mama Carolla’s breakfast place yet?” And up until this morning, the answer had always been no. By a happy accident, I have now been initiated.

My friend Katie and I had planned to meet at Zest at 9:30 this morning to partake of the signature crème brulee French toast and copious amounts of coffee, but when I pulled into the suspiciously empty parking lot, I knew something had gone awry. The sign on the door said it didn’t open until 10 a.m. Huh? A breakfast/lunch/brunch café? Seems to me they’re missing out on some primetime morning traffic, but whatever.

With two small daughters in tow, I knew Katie wouldn’t be able to wait out another half an hour before getting food, so a change of plan steered us in the direction of Taste instead. Until I remembered Good Morning Mama’s as I passed it on 54th St. going west.

An offshoot of the ever-popular Mama Carolla’s Italian restaurant just half a block away, Good Morning Mama’s opened last November and has been enjoying a steady word-of-mouth buzz ever since.

To say this place is shiny and happy is an understatement. It’s sort of a cross between a kitschy 1950s-style diner (complete with jukebox) and Oz, painted in cheery yellow with blue trim. It’s almost too cheery. Like, if you were hungover, headachy and nauseated, it might be a little more than you could handle. Bluebirds appear to be the Good Morning Mama’s mascot; they’re painted on the exterior and flying across banners hanging from the ceiling. I half-expected Snow White to float out of the kitchen to take our order. (No disrespect to our server Barb, who was very friendly and efficient.)

This is not to say the owners don’t have a sense of humor – there is a poster of Michelangelo’s David sculpture on one wall, advertising “sausage sandwiches” by way of a very strategically placed ribbon. Another tongue-in-cheek poster promotes meatballs with two very ample specimens on a platter directly in front of a woman’s bosom.

I ordered a cup of coffee while I waited for Katie to arrive, which proved to be a minor disappointment. To be fair, Mama isn’t a café or coffee shop per se, but I really expected a better cup of Joe from an Italian-themed establishment. Can’t knock them for serving mimosas, but a latte or cappuccino would have been a nice option. And, here’s one of my biggest breakfast joint pet peeves — I HATE it when restaurants expect you to serve yourself creamer from those horrid little half and half packets on the table instead of bringing a little tiny pitcher of something cold and fresh. God knows how long those things sit out every day, and I’m always suspicious of “dairy” products that don’t require refrigeration.

Katie soon rolled in with her adorable entourage of her two-year-old Olivia and infant Audrey, looking the very picture of competent motherhood. After some chair/booster seat arranging, we were settled in and ready to get down to the business of ordering.

Mama’s menu is fairly straightforward – eggs, toast, sausage, pancakes and other traditional breakfast fare, but with an Italian flair. Several items intrigued me, particularly the “eggs in purgatory” simmered in pomodoro sauce with fresh basil, and the “pasta mama” – whole-wheat pasta with scrambled eggs, Parmesan Reggiano and pancetta. Hm. I had a hard time deciding.

I make a ton of omelets and scrambled eggs at home, so I try to order something different when I go out for breakfast or brunch. The java French toast caught my eye; Kahlua-spiked batter and toasted pecans sounded particularly yummy. Realizing I hadn’t eaten biscuits and gravy in God knows how long, that’s what I opted for in the end, with a side of breakfast potatoes and an orange juice. Katie got the plain ol’ French toast (not slagging – that’s what it’s actually called on the menu!), and talked me into sharing an order of the Italian fried biscuits, although to be fair, she didn’t have to do much convincing.

The four golf ball-sized biscuits arrived first, comfortingly warm. If you’ve ever been to one of the speedway suites during the Indy 500 and enjoyed the fried biscuits that Jugg’s Catering serves there, these were very nearly the same thing except rolled in cinnamon sugar. There’s even apple butter in one of the plastic jam/jelly jars on each table for dipping. In short, they were a hit, especially with Olivia, who kept requesting more after every bite.

Our meals followed soon after. My choice was a hearty serving of two fluffy buttermilk biscuits split and drenched with the heavily sausage-studded creamy gravy. It was tasty, but so filling, I couldn’t finish it all. The potatoes were sliced thin and fried crisp with, dare I say it, a hint of onion. Katie and Olivia both seemed to enjoy the French toast.

The place never got crowded while we were there, but there was a steady trickle of customers the entire time. I can imagine it fills up pretty fast on the weekends. The girls were good as gold, and Katie and I were able to enjoy a fairly relaxed and leisurely hour chatting about the joys and perils of mommyhood.

My total bill was a very reasonable $10.90, good value for the amount and quality of food I received. I’ll definitely be back to give it another whirl, and to try that java French toast.

A good morning for mamas, indeed.

Duck, duck… Goose!

There’s a neighborhood deli here in Indianapolis called Goose the Market that’s been on my radar for awhile now. Lunch today with my friend Amy seemed a great excuse to give it a test drive.

Goose the Market is a tiny place nestled into a storefront along Delaware at 25th Street, right along the way home for many downtown commuters. There’s a liquor store directly across the street that was doing a stonking business during our noontime visit, and although the area is still what you’d consider urban, it’s undergone a ton of renovation during the past decade to improve housing opportunities. Part of those efforts included the addition of a handful of local businesses.

Goose is celebrating its second anniversary, and appears to be doing just fine in this location. The place seems to bill itself as a market first and restaurant second. The claim-to-fame is obviously the cured meats; there is an impressive selection behind the glass counter priced by the pound, along with a small but well-considered array of cheeses, fish and olives.

In addition to all that, Goose offers local produce, the freshest baguettes I’ve seen this side of France, and a soda fridge full of out-of-the-ordinary offerings. Bottles of Abita root beer, Traders Point Creamery milk and Sprecher sodas. Nice touch! Don’t miss a visit to the cellar to browse Goose’s creative inventory of beer, wine and gourmet foodie spices, sauces and other items. I may have to make a special trip back just for some of the bourbon smoked paprika…

Glancing at the store’s web site, I see they manage a “Bacon of the Month Club.” Hello! It’s the gift that keeps on giving!!! They’ll be glad to cook up a holiday turkey for you as well, and home cooks (like myself) will be pleased to hear that you can drop off your knives there for sharpening once a month.

But back to lunch. The menu is limited to a handful of sandwiches, a soup and some baked goods. The owner knows what he does well and sticks to it. No fault there. This is a perfect example of a business that’s found its niche. As my friend Amy is a vegetarian, though, I worried for a second that she wouldn’t be able to find something to order amid all that meat. However, the staff was very friendly and accommodating, and able to steer her toward appropriate options. She ended up with a baguette filled with smoked salmon, but said it could have used a little something to kick up the flavor just a bit – dill or capers perhaps? She vowed to go for the salmon pastrami next time.

Named for Mario’s dad, a meat-curing master in his own right who operates a shop in Seattle, the “Batali” seems to be the sandwich of choice here. That’s what I got, and it’s a doozie consisting of three kinds of Italian salami, provolone, lettuce, spicy giardinara, sweet tomato preserves, mayo and pickled onion. If that sounds like a lot to cram onto one narrow swatch of baguette, it is, but it works.

The meats and cheese are sliced super thin and the fillings aren’t slathered on so thickly that you have to unhinge your jaw to take a bite. The giardinara has an addictive kick of heat; I kept picking pieces off to nibble as I made my way through the rest of the sandwich. Apparently, the culinary powers that be agree – the Batali made a top 10 short list of best sandwiches across the country in Bon Appetit magazine.

Is it the best sandwich I ever ate? I don’t know that I’d say that, but it was certainly good. And at $6.95, the value was very fair – it was a filling two-parter full of fresh, delicious ingredients. For my next visit, I’m already daydreaming about the “Goose,” a concoction of Prosciutto di Parma, basil, fresh mozzarella and extra virgin olive oil.

Can’t forget the gelato – there’s a mouthwatering collection of 10 or so gelato flavors, and samples are allowed before you decide on your choice. I got a small cup of the limoncello flavor; Amy chose the Swiss chocolate. Both were scrumptious in totally different ways. The chocolate was rich and creamy, while the lemon was light and nearly floral. It’s hard to find gelato in Indy, and I’m glad to know it’s available here.

Space is tight at Goose the Market if you plan on eating in. Like, five-barstools-lining-a-window tiny, along with a scattering of outdoor tables. Too cold to consider al fresco today, so Amy and I ended up eating our sandwiches standing up. We did snag two vacated stools as we lingered over our gelato. Most customers got their orders to go.

I will definitely come back here again with hubby in tow. He loves proscuitto, and will think he’s died and gone to ham heaven. (Don’t tell him, but I picked up a six-pack of Kolsch beer for him as a surprise…)

http://www.goosethemarket.com