Relish

 Relish Burgers Downtown (Next to the Starbucks by the Hippodrome)
1.5 thumbs up

We always need restaurants downtown, especially for a quick bite to eat.  Relish recently opened up in the old Quizno's location and I figured I'd give it a shot.  It's a burger joint by the people who do Pita Pit.  It's pretty much trying to do the exact same thing as Five Guys, but they don't do it as well. 

In all honesty, I'm not a big burger guy so I know I'm not the ideal judge of this place.  However, I do know what a good burger tastes like.  I got the dude below with all sorts of trimmings (ketchup, mustard, mayo, pickles, mushrooms, lettuce, tomato, and cheese).  Despite all the doctoring up, it didn't have much flavor. 

All in all, if you're downtown and really need a quick burger, stop in and give it a try.  It's not bad, but really nothing special.  If you have more time for lunch, however, I'd go get that burger somewhere else, for sure. 

The incredible villages and countryside of Provence

The mountaintop village of Bonnieux

While this post isn't strictly food based, I wanted to provide an account of an amazing day of travel.  If I wasn't such a homebody with a real job and pets and responsibilities, I could fancy myself as a travel writer.  I imagine I'd be cooler than Rick Steves (not too hard), but maybe fall short of Anthony Bourdain in adventurousness.  After all, no one really needs another travel guide on Europe.  It's been done to death.  But this is my blog and I'm going to write about what I damn well please!  So, without further ado, let's get going.

Provence is famously known for its quaint villages and pastoral landscapes.  We certainly intended to explore it as much as possible, but it wasn't until we rented a car in Marseille that the plan really came into fruition.  As I explained in my last entry, I made a last minute decision to rent a car in order to properly enjoy the region.  However, it certainly came at a significant and unplanned cost.  Looking to maximize the return on our investment, we decided that several drives across the French countryside were in order.  After experiencing the sights, sounds, smells, and flavors that we did, I can easily say that every last eurocent of the rental paid off.    

Our original car-less plan was to visit the smaller cities of Avignon, Arles, Aix en Provence, and a few others that easily connected to Marseille by train.  Once we had the car, however, we realized that the true Provencial experience lay in the small villages peppered across the countryside.  After trying to piece together a route from our not so great Rick Steve's guidebook, we promptly gave up and asked our B&B host, Mauro, for his advice.
 
From Marseille, we headed towards Aix en Provence.  During this day, we didn't stop in Aix, but did spend some time there the day before.  The reason I bring it up now is to share the beauty of the Patisserie with you.  Aix was a gleamingly beautiful, charming little city featuring countless food spots.  We were barely in town a few minutes before we found the above delights.  English is scarcely spoken in this part of the country, so we had to try our crude French to get these.  While the woman at the Patisserie was friendly enough, she wasn't going to give us much help when it came to the language barrier.  We had to point and dig deep for any descriptive french words we knew: chocolat, blanche, frese, frambois, and so on.  The French pastry shops were similar to the Italians in that they sold bite size portions of most of their offerings for very reasonable prices.  The above box cost us about 5 euro and tasted even better than it looks. 

Lourmarin

After passing Aix, we went to the village of Lourmarin.  We were pretty hungry, so we set out looking for lunch.  Finding a quaint square that housed half a dozen restaurants with ample outdoor seating, we tried to find one to suit our fancy.  Picking a restaurant in a situation like this is tough for several reasons.  First off, we're pretty hungry and not thinking clearly as a result.  Also, aside from menu prices and the overall vibe of the restaurant, there is little else to help you decide which one to choose.  The square was packed with people eating lunch, and every single one of them was French.  All the menus were exclusively in French and you didn't hear a word of English being spoken anywhere.  Having already gotten over my apprehension about being immersed in a different culture and language, I actually quite enjoyed the confusion.

The restaurant we settled on served omelets.  We figured that we hadn't had eggs the entire time we were in Europe, and imagined that French omelets kicked ass.  We were absolutely right.  Above is mine, which had Roquefort cheese and came with a salad (all the salads we had in France had a dijon based dressing).  The cheese was so perfectly rich and flavorful with the eggs.  The omelet appeared to be a bit overcooked, but didn't have that stinky overcooked egg smell or taste.  It was perfectly light and fluffy and was probably one of the best omelets I've ever had.

After strolling through the market again, we returned to the convertible to head towards our next destination, Roussillon.  As we climbed the mountain ahead of us, we realized we were going to pass through an unexpected village, Bonnieux.  As with Lourmarin, Bonnieux was extremely charming, but was much  smaller.  It was situated atop the mountain we were climbing and just as we began our descent, it revealed a series of roadside cafes overlooking the entire valley.

View from the top of Bonnieux

I'm not sure that any photographer could do this view justice.  The outdoor seats of the mountain top cafe were literally hanging off the side of the road, granting their occupants an incredible view of the village as it faded into the patchwork quilted farmland below.  Realizing we couldn't just drive past, we quickly stopped, bought two bottles of Orangina, and enjoyed the view for a while. 

Realizing we might not get tired of the view any time soon, we forced ourselves to move on to Roussillon.  This particular village is known for the ochre in the surrounding soil.  Hundreds of years ago, the locals would mine the ochre and sell it around the world as an orange dye.

The famous ochre of Roussillon

While we certainly enjoyed an hour long mild hike through the ochre forest, we came for more important things: ice cream.  One of the regional delights that was universally outstanding was pink grapefruit sorbet.  It was exceptionally refreshing.  We also tried lavender glace (ice cream), as neither of us had ever eaten anything with lavender flavor before.  Both were excellent.  

 As we drove across the valley, we noticed that food was everywhere.  Whether it was olives growing in one of the villages or cherries on one of the many farms, the bounty of Provence was omnipresent. 

Cherry Farm

Olive tree in Roussillon

Lavender just about to bloom

Quite possibly the most famous natural wonder of Provence's is the lavender.  We certainly saw it blooming, but it was still a few weeks away from the famous purple countrysides that we've seen in post cards.  Nonetheless, as we drove around, the air was fragrant with the sweetness of these tiny purple flowers.  What struck me the most was how mild and delicate the smell was.  Typically lavender products are very strong scented, but the flowers were subtle and sweet.    

Gordes (the mountain in the far distance is where Bonnieux was situated)

Finally, we ascended the mountain at the other end of the valley to arrive at Gordes, a medieval looking castle village.  By this point of the day, we were a bit tired, but still wanted to explore what seemed like a set out of Lord of the Rings.  The village was the quietest of the several we'd visited during the day, but stores were still open.  We hit up yet another patisserie for what I determined to be the best item of the entire trip: a pistachio eclair.  It was unreal.  The flavor was powerful yet light, the filling was rich yet fluffy, and the pastry was savory yet airy and flaky.  It was superb. We also bought a loaf of french bread for 50 eurocents.  What a bargain!  Finally, we hit up a little grocery/specialty store for the items you read about in last post's picnic #2.  All the shops in this town really seemed to be run by young people trying to keep classic French traditions alive. 

Pistachio Eclair.  Perfection

We still had about an hour and a half drive back to Marseille, but we could hardly care less about it.  The sun was setting slowly as we drove our root beer brown convertible across the lavender scented countryside.  A large portion of the trip ended up taking us along a less scenic and hardly romantic highway, but we didn't care.  We left the roof of the convertible down as we sped at 130 kilometers per hour (approximately 500 miles per hour by my estimated conversion).  As we approached Marseille, the airport appeared on our right.  The mountainous highway was elevated significantly above the runway and we were able to watch planes take off, yet remain below us for a few moments until they took their passengers far away from the paradise that we just discovered.  I knew we'd be on one of those planes in two days time, but put the thought out of my mind as I remembered the bags of produce and wine and cheese and bread and pastries that we had in the back of the car.  The road trip may have been ending, but the feast was about to begin.

Le Petit Jardin (our B&B) at night.

Brennan's Bakery - Unpleasant!

Brennan's Bakery
4917 Northwest 34th Street

Zero Thumbs Up

 

This little bakery used to be called the Northwood Bakery.  I'd driven by it several times, but never actually saw it open for business.  Lately, however, I've noticed the place has been open.  After a mid-day swim at the Y, I decided to stop in to see what they had to offer.  I was hoping for a nice loaf of bread or maybe a sandwich and something sweet.   
 
Upon entering, I noticed that there were slim pickins on the shelves and display cases.  It also looked old and sad.  It reminded me of an old timey, slightly dirty, nothing fancy bakery that my Grandfather might have taken me to in New Jersey when I was a little kid. 

I figured I'd try one of their subs.  Instead of traditional sub rolls, they had these large sheets of flat bread that they'd cut up to somewhat resemble a sub roll.  Having seen nothing like this before (I don't mean that in a good way), I immediately grew skeptical.  The guy who made the sub was friendly enough, and offered me the sandwich at a price that was much less than what was written on the chalk board.  I then figured I should try one of their baked goods, so I got a cookie.  There were chocolate chip cookies and what appeared to be double chocolate chip cookies. The guy helping me claimed that he didn't know what either of them were and actually admitted that the baker made the darker ones incorrectly, adding way too much of a particular ingredient (thus the darker hue).  As you could imagine, the cookie tasted like the baker accidentally added too much of one ingredient.

After a few bites of the sub, I could go no further.  The bread was terrible.  It was dry, flavorless, and pasty.  The cookie was bad too.  Everything about this experience was unpleasant.   The bakery seemed ill stocked, the ingredients seemed cheap and sub-par, and it just didn't taste good at all. 

I'm not sure how these guys hope to stay in business, but I'm betting they won't be around for much longer. 

France: The Market

One of the most amazing things I've witnessed in my life is the Provence Traveling Market.  It would roam around the region weekly, always stopping in the same towns on the same days.  We accidentally caught it twice during our journeys, once in Aix en Provence and once in Lourmarin.  Naturally, it blew my mind.  We have been in European cities that hosted markets before, but they were rarely more than booths filled with knock-off name brand t shirts and stupid souvenirs.  This crappy style of market was so frequently encountered, I didn't know they could be anything more.

At the risk of sounding redundant, I've never seen anything quite like the traveling market in the South of France.      

You can literally buy anything you'd ever want or need at these markets.  Fruits, vegetables, oils, vinegars, bread, cheeses, meats, fish, spices, soaps, utensils, knives, artisan crafts, clothes, shoes.  The list went on and on.  Each type of good would be grouped together in the same part of town.  As a result, the food was all together, the clothes were all together, the artisans were all together.  It was incredibly easy to navigate and impressive in its size. 

The very top picture was one of the first booths that drew us in: the spice booth.  They had what seemed like an infinite amount of different spices, teas, seasonings, and blends out in the open.  I've never seen anything quite so beautiful and tantalizing.  I could have photographed this booth all day.  We bought 4 tubes of Mediterranean salt mixed with herbs, one small bag of rose potpourri, and one small bag of lavender potpourri.  It was all incredible.

Next was the cheese stand.  As you can see above, they didn't mess around.  They brought a massive cooler full of hundreds of cheeses, all beckoning you to steal away with a baguette and eat till you felt sick.  We purchased 3 rounds of Chevre (goat cheese) for 6 euro.  Region wide, Chevre portions were always about the size of a hockey puck.  The 3 varieties we bought had honey, herbs de provence, and cracked pepper.  Feeling ambitious, we also bought a wheel of Camembert cheese.  Since a vegan friend once told us that Camembert cheese was the only thing she'd consider cheating for, we had to try it.  The cheese people also sold bread, so we grabbed a big loaf to add to our quickly growing handful of bags. 
 
Next, at one of the produce stands, we selected two large heirloom tomatoes and a bushel of cherries.  It seemed that dinner was already planning itself.  After a stop later in the day at the nearby beach town of Cassis, our dinner became complete with a local bottle of rose wine.

The Mediterranean as seen from the beach at Cassis

These markets gave us two unparalleled dinners, both enjoyed from the comfort of our B&B garden.  The first featured the following menu:
-French Bread
-3 types of Chevre cheese: honey (my favorite), herbs de Provence, and cracked pepper (my wife's favorite)
-Camembert cheese: which smelled like "ass feet" (a term I coined), but tasted incredible
-Rose wine (that's pronounced Rose-ay, not rose flavored) from Cassis.  A sip of wine after the Camembert cheese would create a turbo-charged taste explosion.
-Heirloom tomatoes sliced and served with nothing more than Mediterranean sea salt mixed with herbs
-the cookies in the foreground weren't good, but were very commonly seen around town.  They were chewy and tasted lemony.  
 
The second dinner was very similar and featured:
-The same cheeses left over from night 1
-French fiscelle bread (not baton, like my wife told me to say.  That means stick.) from Gordes
-A new type of heirloom tomato served the same way as the previous night.
-white wine from Gordes
-local cherries
-local strawberries and blackberries.  These guys won the gold medal for unparalleled taste.  I swear to you that you've never tasted a strawberry or blackberry until you've had one of these.  They were at the prime stage of ripeness and were so juicy sweet that you almost believed they were some new magical fruit you've never heard of before.  I'll swear up and down that you've never had anything like these berries before. 

 

The beauty of these markets really existed in the fact that everything was local.  And when I say local, I mean from right over there (pointing to some piece of land visible from where you are).  The fruit was meant to be sold and eaten on that very day.  It wasn't picked early and then "ripened" with chemicals.  That was the exact day for that piece of fruit to exist on my plate. 

More to come!

Provence, France. Holy Shit

Marseille Panoramic from the top of Notre Dame de la Garde

As everything in Europe is so close together, I couldn’t justify a trip across the Atlantic for Venice alone.  Next up was the South of France.  I'd never been to France before and to be honest, I didn't know what to expect.   Initially planning on having a central base of operations and utilizing the rail system to get around the Provencal region, we stayed in Marseille.  It has the airport and main train station of the region, yet it has a reputation as a big, dirty, dangerous city.  We were informed that the airport was roughly 15 miles from the city center and the cabs charge 50-60 euro to drive you there.  Figuring that a round trip by cab would end up being 100-120 euro and the daily train tickets would certainly add up, we decided to rent a car.  I’ve never driven in Europe and actually looked forward to the adventure.  Naturally, all the cheap rentals are manual transmission, which I can’t drive (dumb American that I am).  My wife can drive stick, but is not comfortable doing so in unfamiliar, hectic, massive, foreign cities.  Upgrade we must.  Also, GPS was essential and the only car they had which combined automatic transmission with built in GPS was a sweet-ass, root beer-brown, never been driven Peugot convertible (it had 3 km on the odometer).  This car was bad ass. 

Upon arrival into Marseille, the streets were very hectic and narrow, and we quickly realized that we shouldn't have rented such a big car.  Imagine the congestion of Manhattan with hills and mountains, all based on a twisty street system that predates the automobile by quite a few centuries (Marseille is France’s oldest city).   We still managed to find our B&B (Le Petit Jardin) with little difficulty; however, parking was not a realistic possibility.  Thankfully, our host, Mauro, hopped in the car and showed us some secret back streets to park on. 

The only problem was that this part of town had extremely narrow, windy streets with very tight turns.  Needless to say, I promptly drove the Peugot into a wall, grinding the brand new bumper pretty badly.  We did find parking (I’d like to point out how I’m very good at parallel parking) and returned to the B&B.  It was literally a little slice of heaven amidst one of the craziest cities I’ve ever been to.  

 

We dropped our bags and sipped a deliciously unique water with rosemary syrup concoction offered to us by Mauro.  Syrups, both fruit and herb based, are apparently a big part of Provence. 

Despite its reputation, the city welcomed us with open arms.  We walked along the coastal road with no problems whatsoever.  At no point did I feel like we were in danger or in a bad area.  At one point, when we were visibly lost, a young French couple volunteered to help us in perfect English.  We didn't even have to ask; they offered. 

Our destination was Chez Jeannot, a restaurant situated near a small marina and under an arched bridge where we could gaze longingly at the Mediterranean from our table.  The restaurant was recommended by our host and was quite excellent.  To me, nothing is more important than finding a good meal, especially for your first one in a new town.  With so many options in a big city, it’s very easy to find a sub par meal.  Interestingly enough, one of the unique aspects of Marseille is that despite being a very large city that blends many cultures, it does not cater to an English speaking crowd. 


What that means is the menus are exclusively in French, and the staff speaks very little to no English.  Keep in mind that I know NO French.  My wife took a class 14 years ago and I downloaded a dictionary/phrasebook on my iPhone, but that was it.  We had to do our best to interpret the menu items with little more than willpower.

One of the regional traditions that I was already aware of was the herbs de provence.  Legend has it that the local meats are more flavorful because the animals free range graze upon wild growing herbs and spices.  I'm not so sure if that is true, but I do know that when cooked with, the herbs are something outstanding.  Traditionally, they were an unspecified mixture of whatever grew locally.  Seeking to capitalize on the magical stigma the herbs gained, spice companies started to package "herbs de provence" for sale with official combinations that were never before strictly adhered to in the region.  It seemed to me that the mixtures varied slightly from place to place and many restaurants prided themselves on their own blends.  All in all, the herbs typically can include basil, fennel, thyme, majoram, savory (a French herb), and even perhaps lavender. 

The first item we ordered was champignons au provencal.  The mushrooms were sauteed in butter and the herbs previously described.  They were served with a small green salad with a Dijon vinaigrette.  As you can imagine, the mushrooms were mind blowing.  This was one of the dishes I describe as making you weak at the knee even if you're sitting down.  So simple, so delicious, so fresh.  It was excellent. 

Up next was a salad with crostini and breaded and fried chevre, or goat cheese.  Chevre is ubiquitous in Provence and is as universally excellent. 

 

For the main course, we ordered a trois fromage pizza.  I can't believe how pizza is even more popular in Europe than it is in America.  I was always given the impression that they don't eat it as much as we do and it's some sort of bastardization of Italian food that they couldn't get away with selling over there.  I'm not sure where I got that idea, because it's literally everywhere.  Even the French took their own approach to the old favorite and this one didn't disappoint at all.  The three cheeses that were used were extremely savory and rich and blended together perfectly.

More to come!