A French Toast to National Pancake Day

You've caught me unprepared for National Pancake Day. The truth is, I've been sluttin' around with toast.

Bread pudding french toast from Shopsin's in NYC is still the most memorable dish I've ever consumed, and watching Kenny make it is almost better. The folks over at Menupages Philadelphia happen to be fans, too, and recently posted the clip of Sir Shopsin on Conan.

Now that his new book Eat Me is out in the wild, I'm burying my nose in it and only coming out when you remind me that there's a ginger-colored mini in my closet asking for a debut in society.

I'm not Kenny, but my pumpkin challah french toast turned out so well that it's been breakfast for three days in a row. I used this recipe with soy milk, nutmeg, and omitted the orange juice.

I Watch True Blood and You Should, Too

• Yo. I'm going to this. Are you going to this? Let's go to this.
• And I might be the only vegetarian at this.
• Fellow City Paperer James Saul went vegan brewskiing at Old City's Triumph.
  
• Remember Are You Afraid of the Dark? This is my Top 5 interpretation.
• Big up or two to the Temple News crew for pulling the 2008 Lunchie Awards together. Good show. And thanks for not letting the veggie chicken cheesesteak at the wheels I favor out of the bag.
  

The Originator of the Veggie Hoagie

No, it's not this kid, but my dearest bro does make some mighty fine sandwiches and he's a part-time veggie. Teenagers with non-technological apple devices in 2008 are true leaders.

Understand something. The sign outside of Chickie's, accurate or not, leads one into a partnership based on trust. If a veggie hoagie is their claim to fame, their bread & oil, as it were, then you should ask no questions. Order on, wait two minutes in a cloud of hoagie perfume, and accept the hallowed torpedo as an unequal exchange. Because for a $6.25 small, you're getting the better end of the deal.


Innovation comes with baked eggplant. Laid in with garlicious broccoli rabe and plump roasted pep, this could easily be bitter, but it chooses to sing. The generous veggie serving is popped off with shreds of locatelli. What Chickie's manages to do is de-emphasize the roll, leaving the ingredients to carry the sandwich. You're never overwhelmed by too much bread here. It's a little oily, but you're in South Philly. Roll with it.

Keep the sign. And yes, yes I would wear a Chickie's Home of the "Veggie Hoagie" t-shirt.

Chickie's, 1014 Federal St.

Veg Out: Scoping Out Mix

Mix has what many pizzerias do not: a bar in the back that's open during lunch and a coffee counter off to the side of its pizza display. Don't dismiss the slices up front, they do warrant a grip if you happen upon 21st and Chestnut. This is a pizza bar that makes sense, though I cannot manage my crust with something other than beer, wine, or so be them, soft drinks. Thin, but not flimsy, with just enough of a crunch, the tomato pie was seasoned to please, one of its finer interpretations. Things are looking good with the menu, too, as I noted an "ALT" (avocado, lettuce, tomato), a thoughtful run of salad options, and Greek specialties.

Mix, 21st & Chestnut

Adventures in Children's Snacking: Bananamon

As a food blogger, I receive a curious amount of free samples in the mail. Just the other morning, UPS delivered a long rectangular package of Funky Monkey snacks. Here I was, hoping for something excitable, face falling instead to the sight of four bags of freeze-dried fruit with names like Purple Funk and Bananamon.

If you can't get a four-year old to eat a banana, then you won't get him to try crunchy banana chips. Real bananas seem like enough of an incentive. They're bright, appealing, and super-sweet. A bag of the cinnamon-dusted chips does contain three servings of fruit, but it just made me want a real banana with some nutella.

If a natural disaster hits any time soon, I know what I'm eating.

Superior Feast: Pumpkin Ravioli

A tip-off from a friend had me popping into Superior Pasta for some pumpkin ravioli over the weekend. You know where this is. It's that pasta shop across the street from Sabrina's and it never occurred to you to go in there because your stomach was broken from that breakfast burrito you played wit.

This the motherload of pasta factories, because not only do they have fillings like eggplant and broccoli rabe, they also have homemade sauces to douse them in (porcini mushroom and port wine marinara), cheese, fresh bread, biscotti, and yes, an expert at the counter who will recommend alternative preparation. Some Earth Balance or olive oil with sauteed onion would suit your pumpkin just swell.

Superior Pasta Co., 905 Christian St.

A History of Violence

The coup de grace to Tuesday's farmer's market excursion, the thing that made it different from all the other vegetable-whoring goings on in the city, was the Natural Baker's table. There must be a farm somewhere that raises vegan pastry chefs and then sends them off to Philly with dairy-free cupcakes.

Remember we talked about how I would never eat a cupcake again because it wasn't working out for me? Let's review:

The truth is, I just don't like cupcakes. Especially vegan ones.

I know I've been a real bitch lately. But those GIANT CUPPIES! VEGANCUPCAKES!! PINK FROSTINGS$)(! CUPCAKERYyyyyY OHMYYUMM POWER TAKE OVER THE WORLD WITH MY EARTH BALANCE CAKE!! girls are like, somehow, worse.

Cupcakes are even less edgy than seitan cheesesteaks. Say the word cupcake out loud. You sound like a fool.

Vegan cookbooks need to go beyond their current concept of "Oh, look, cute. I make cupcakes" and start making angry, passionate food.

And so on. Is that why the above chocolate cupcake appears to have suffered an afternoon of jostling around in my bag? Was I hoping it would go away? The Natural Baker's goodies come at the right price of $1.75 . There were also some cookies hanging out.

I shouldn't have banged up the pretty cupcake's face. You'll be happy to know that I suffered as well. The frosting caused my throat to seize up, the crumbly cake was sans moisture. With the Rittenhouse Brown Betty opening, I think it's high time I give up on vegan cupcake testing for y'all.

In the meantime, I'll post a Craigslist ad for a new vegan cupcake sampling agent.

Parc Breakfast: Mocha Haze in my Brain, Part II

It'll be thick hot the rest of the month, September tells. At 10 A.M. in the shade before Rittenhouse Square, it is cooler than the French. I'm jotting a work of Parc Fiction in my headspace, based on a few fantastical nuggets that I dropped in GChat, when a hemisphere of mocha hazelnut is set before me.

One of my main vegetarian coping skills: if the coffee drink is a hit, I want for nothing else. I will duck into my cup and let everyone else run the show.

It's a rich and creamy lava, bold all the way down, where the hazelnut most asserts itself.

The oatmeal brulee would be my first choice, but it's the rustic tartine that I bet on. It arrives toasted warm with your choice of pectins-raspberry jam or zestful orange marmalade-and cloud-like whipped butter. I notice there aren't many young people eating there. I wonder what that would be like.

Breakfast is from 7:30 to 11 A.M. Make the time. Menu on the Clog.

Parc, 227 S 18th St.

Parc Breakfast: I Don't Think You're Ready For This Confiture, Part I

Lipstick that guts men in their sleep stamps a porcelain mug on a sidewalk table at Parc.

The day is breaking.

Owen removes his sunglasses and places them next to his glass of orange juice. "Here, really? You can't pick a fight with me when we're at McGlinchey's. Has to be here. A class act, Amelia."

"It's 9:30. I don't wait well." Her tartine is but one bite reduced.

"Think of the black eye you could give me at Oscar's. Can we just finish breakfast and then go somewhere quiet?"

Parc itself seemed to laugh at this. Who pays for silence?

"You're getting all excited and I haven't even tossed this $7 Badoit water in your face yet," Amelia said, putting down her butter knife.

"Why do you always have to be so fashionable? Vogue after you eat."

He looked away, where their server was trying to mentally deliver the check. "Very nice. Gangly will completely strand us now." He turned back and watched her sip from the glass of imported h20. "Tip or no. Careful, don't drink it all."

She dangled her arm closer, giving it a swirl in front of him."There's enough."

They both knew she wouldn't. He accepted the glass to settle her own doubt.

"How's this, then?" He splashed a quick jet of the two inches of remaining fluid directly into his face, with movements so precise and controlled that only the two-top next to them took it in. Even Gangly the Server had given up watching the palpable conflict unfolding in his section.

Amelia slid back. "You are depressed." Leaping up from her seat, she jettisoned her napkin over their breakfast and stalked off towards the bathroom. The walk took forever, a human nature trail of gawkers. All bistro eyesets had fastened themselves to her spectacular form by the time she reached the swinging doors of the toilette. An elder woman with a cutting coif attempted to hold it ajar, but Amelia gave her a firm shake of the head no, plowing through with a kiss of her own kinecticity.

Back out with a graceful land at the bar, Amelia was refreshed and fit with a slick coat of Guts Men in Their Sleep. Snatching a baguette from a basket off to the side, she tore off a sizeable hunk and pushed it into her mouth. The bartender started to pour. It may have been the first of the day.

With the contents of face-saving glassware vanished, she allowed herself a glance at their table.

Someone else had claimed it.

Market Madness

• The Liacouras Walk Farmer's Market shot off today with professors snatching the best tomatoes while students milled around wondering what was going on, if the whoopie pies were free, and if Diamond Dollars were being accepted. All in all, a nice addition. See you next Tues.?

• Jovan's Place? Yeah, that's right, I do it. If you're sensitive, you may not want to. The goulash is like an entire animal on a plate. The generous platter of bruschetta, enticing mounds of spinach mashed potatoes, and from-love veggies is a consoling offer. Or make it your Kenzinger rough-day crawlspace. The sheer warmth of this mom'n'pop make it a giant WELCOME HOME sign. Even if, at first, it only appears to read Jovan's Place.

• We're almost through Restaurant Week. You should sneak in Privé, but I'm gonna stay home and pretend I'm wearing SNOB slippers.

• Oh, look. They're on. A word of advice if you plan on dining at the second Adobe Cafe on Passyunk: the Tofu Dinner sounds horrendous, is doubly so, and if a kitchen lets a plate of iceberg with slabs of pre-packaged partially-cooked tofu out on a plate with no dressing, then how good can the rest of the veggie menu be? Alright, the sangria? Out of luck. It's the Chili's where you can get seitan tips. You should go at least once to gag at the interior.
  

In the Kitchen w/ Kelly: Apple Charlotte

It was like the ghosts of Julia Child and Jacques Pepin (you mean to tell me he's still alive) were drifting around when I whipped up his Apple Charlotte. Using Honeycrisps from Headhouse, I followed the recipe from this month's Food & Wine. To make it vegan, simply sub agave syrup for the honey and bust out your Earth Balance.

#1 sign of a vegan kitchen: Big tubs of EB are used as containers around the room and the economy-size bucket of it is the focal point of the inner fridge.

Watch them break it down here: Lessons with Master Chefs

Without question, it looks darling before you cut into it, and becomes a clump of caramelized apples with a sugary crust when you dish it out like so.

Veg Out: Minar Palace

I've got no Indian in my cupboard

Minar Palace has finally worked itself out and whipped us into flocking there the minute the tandoor fired up. I actually held out as long as I could. Since I had bonafide errands to run nearby, I decided to address the saag paneer before the crowds showed up. My ribcage was a tad more prominent than usual. I've been trying to attract advertisers that way.

Early afternoon found a steady stream of takeaway orders, but the restaurant itself, in its handsome wood & cherry-walled outfit, was mostly vacant. I didn't have much cash on my person, but there was a $15 minimum charge on cards, so I killed time waiting for my saag paneer and plain paratha (safe, but my heart's been through a lot) by swooping through the Commerce ATM up the block. After that was settled, I skipped back to HQ to take care of things.

The above is only half the story. Minar uses an unreasonable amount of plastic containers to transport their flava. To my confusion, a handful of salad was wrapped in a ball of foil. A flimsy paper plate was included. The heft of the saag paneer could not be supported by such a thin layer. They serve on paper plates and plastic utensils in the dining room too, which seems counterproductive to their new digs. The large portion of rice was a redundant employee to the much tinier department of paneer, which yielded two normal servings. Eff that noise. No, really, I'm gonna ask for no rice next time. It's noise.

A meal should work together, and barring those schematics, the rounded spices of the paneer and the chewy paratha were both memorable and flattered each other. I wasn't blown away, but I was nice for the rest of the day. I still feel strong loyalty to Ekta, maker of the finest paneer I've handled, but Minar's got its foot in my door. Now all they need to do is ditch the paper plates.

Minar Palace, 1304 Walnut St.

Things You Can't Buy At 7-Eleven

• Ekta gets the vote from Brian Freedman, but he elects to eat in at Bhattari's Tables, where he finds the flavors worth mulling over. There's two of those tables, and every time I pick up my takeout, there are at least ten people squeezed into the eight seats, and a gang of naan believers biding their wait time outside. Too bad I just had Minar.
  
• In this week's Small Bites, I guarantee that my invitation to Fork in my Hand's secret treehouse dinner has been revoked. Then I ease my way into pumpkin pie season with a cheese pie hybrid. If anyone else wants me at their secret dinner, I will bring some.
  
• Liacouras Walk is getting a farmer's market. So says the Temple News, which I read once a year to keep up. The best quote?
  “It is important to provide college students with the groceries they can’t buy at 7-Eleven or CVS,” Tangtrakul said.
  

Straight truth.

• If you pop over here for a second, my first magazine article appears in the fall issue of Next American City. It's a short about the urban heat island effect in Tucson that isn't online yet, but you can find a copy at Barnes & Noble or Borders. I know, not veg-related, but it's my first time and it's a magazine that allows you to respect yourself while reading. The issue wrap party is tonight at the Ugly American from 8-11pm.
  

So Much For Ramadan: The Ultimate Breakfast

Long a hardy proponent of breakfast and a staunch detractor of lunch, Suneen's Ultimate Bagel could only have one place in my day. That's First Meal.

Most of this Allentown health food company's prepackaged sandwiches, salads, and platters are not intensely special. You can pick them up at 7-Eleven, Whole Foods, and Essene near the Moshe's sandwiches, so they make for suitable convenience meals. I often glance over them simply because it's always the same shit. The Suneen Ultimate Bagel caught my eye and since it was new and had the word ultimate on it (I'm so easy), I hooked one and slid into the checkout.


If the Suneen people had my imagination, the Ultimate Bagel would have been a Tabasco-flavored hole plugged with tofu scramble and tempeh bacon slices. It was instead the chalky vegan chicken salad that they sell in tubs and on their dry sandwich bread. Their housemade bagel itself was a fine creation, a perfectly dense and chewy carbohydrate made with the key addition of malt and whole wheat. It demands an appropriate filling to match. Vegan chicken salad for breakfast or on a bagel doesn't strike me as wrong, but in this case, it's unfair.

Brew: Kenya Grand Cru coffee
Hymn: Dr. Dog "The Ark" Park The Van Records

Burrito Diaries: El Jarocho

Burritos in Philly don't come with sides. Nor the complimentary chips that bordered nearly every Mission burrito I had out west. Not for take-out. Chips. Who needs 'em?

The vegetarian burrito at Jarocho shares a clamshell with salad. It's not wrapped in foil because of this, so you have to eat it like a bastard. The pile of shredded iceberg and tomato bits would be pointless, except it's wreckaged with Oaxaca cheese and tangy sour cream, and that, my friend, is the new "chips".

Is this a burrito or a football? It's bigger than my head. It's also goes by the rice-loaded style of vegetarian burrito crafting. This doesn't excite me, as rice is almost as useless as chips to me. More troubling is that the sour cream remains on the outside, and there is no cheese in it! I need a tutor to explain this. Walk me through it.

As I see it: rice, beans, lettuce, tomato, corn. This is the cheapest burrito ever made. It's even good, too, when you hit it with the salsa, and if you can deal with it being a food rock to get you through hard times.

El Jarocho, 1138 S 13th St.

Veg Out: Almaz Cafe

When one of the foodie elite gives me a personal recommendation, I listen. I don't exactly jump. When another trusted food type seconds the restaurant, on a separate occasion, I not only listen. I place it a little higher on my Veg Out queue. So it was for Almaz Cafe.

Part sleepy coffeeshop on the bottom level, dining alcove above, Almaz doesn't quite scream that their Ethiopian provisions are upper-shelf. In a part of town that doesn't offer much of any African cuisine, it helps just to show up. Or meet my ass halfway, because I do not want a West Philly commute.

Drinking coffee is not a bad idea here, as coffee originates from Ethiopia (the more you know!) and the stimulant on pour at Almaz is well-chosen. That said, if Almaz was simply a coffee stockist, it would not turn heads.

The reserved placard on the table of four upstairs winked at me. There's mostly dining counter space there, so some smart bastards with great ideas did a little planning. I dismissed the American menu, as one often should, and called on an iced coffee stat. Strong.

The Vegetarian Combination promised a sampling of three dishes, so I sprang for that. The Kik-Alchia, turmeric-dashed yellow split peas, was mellow but comforting. I could go for an entire plate of it, easy. Misir was spicier and meaty, berbere lifting up the split red lentils. Sauteed greens balanced it out. Finally, a dish of Tikil Gomen was the highlight, buttery potatoes and cabbage with a gingery sauce. The magic is already laid out on injera bread that I couldn't finish, but it comes with an extra side of the spongy dough that you're supposed to eat with instead of a fork. I'm not crazy about injera. I used the fork, and then headed off to dance class well-fueled.

I hate to be the ninth person to say it, but YOU NEED TO GO.

Almaz Cafe, 140 S 20th St.

Caked Out

How much vegan cake did I consume this weekend?

Start off with the mistake of a vegan cupcake I had at Gianna's. It was something a vegan raver Barbie would eat, with neon pink frosting. I suspect it was gingerbread or spice, but I can't post for sure, as it had no flavor.

The truth is, I just don't like cupcakes. Especially vegan ones.

I can think of one cupcake that I deserves revisiting, and it was from Fishtown's Canvas, a long time ago. A weekend coffee sojourn there with my brother had us both approving of the vegan lemon almond cake. He's fifteen and drinks his coffee black, for which I take full credit. If he's the most stylish gent at Liberty High this year, that's also my work.

At Sunday's Sweet Green Vegan Pastry Contest I was able to try everything but winner Karen Scholl's Peaches and Cream Coffee Cake, so I can't rave about that. I picked at the Chocolate Chai Cupcake, as it had given in to the heat and was all melty. Some Jelly Donut Muffin made it into my system and holds strong as my favorite.

The Strawberry Green Tea Cake was moist and pretty, and I was brought on stage as a crowd tester for the Plum Pudding. I think it was the most creative entry--the renegade--and I liked the down-homeyness of it. It's like someone's Aunt Sally made it to serve guests at tea, and then they're all "But I'm vegan." So Auntie S. spins on her heel, her spectacles inch down her nose, and she looks them square in the eyes. "Yes, dears, I know." I'm into that.

Not only do I understand about cake, I have a full range of services that include dressing you, devising personalized nutrition and fitness plans where you get to watch me eat and then chase me afterwards, so that your body ends up in smokin' non-smoking condition, and criticizing your blog, which has its obvious fine points. Make an appointment now. I cannot live on vegan cake alone.

For more shots, check out my uwishunu recap.
And Judgeman Lazor has photos here, with recipes to come later this week.

Hunk Shopping: Vegan Gingerbread

This is not about the known practice of designated Hunk Hour at Whole Foods. Which, if you're not interested in groceries and want to beam thoughtful stares and emit rays of intensity at another commoner, is anywhere from 7-8pm at any given organic supermarche in the world.

This is about the hunk that has a little more girth, the Bakery's vegan gingerbread.

There are enough people trying to be the cute person who is fumbling with their packet of veggie sausages and two cases of Steaz.

Be the one who strolls in and walks out with the spiciest piece there.

Put some Soy Whip on it.

And then remember where you came from.

Veg Out: Fest Edition

With a number of fests hurtling your way, the good news is that you can eat at all of them.

Friday's grand opening of the Megawords Storefront will feature a vegan food feast. Check uwishunu.com soon for my post on that.

Sunday's Green Fest is a vegan pastry nerd's next step. Bacon-lover/bacon editor Drew Lazor will judge the Sweet Green Organic Pastry and Dessert Contest, along with my neighbor/Whole Foods marketing czar Brett Mapp, and vegan cake whiz Kate Jacoby from Horizons.

Then there's Saturday the 13th's River City Festival in Fishtown. Among what's on offer there:

Mozzarella, Tomato and Pesto Panini and Artichoke Nachos from Hinge Cafe
Grilled veggies from Johnny Brendas
Tapas from Quince
Cornerstone Market Fruit Kabobs

The Cheese Halo Effect

• Back on Girard for a Sketch-over, I was dealt a veggie burger with the American-cheddar blend this time around. The soy cheese, tasty as it was, hadn't been melt-savvy before. I discovered the unique method Sketch has for preparing their cheeseburgers. They grill the slices of cheese, producing a "halo effect" that gets the job done. If you like burnt cheese that oozes out like a dairy sunflower, raise yo hand. Me, too. Huge, huge improvement on an already craveable burger. Plus, this has to be one of the few places in existence where back-to-back orders for veggie burgers are a common occurence. Sketch, 413 E. Girard Ave.

• Let's give a warm P'unk Ave welcome to Adobe Cafe, the latest Dos in Philadelphia, as it opens on Sunday. Soy cheese veggie taco dreams come true. The Southwestern bill of fare is marked with an overwhelming glut of vegetarian/vegan eatin'. The focus is on faux appendages: seitan wings, tips, and tofu fingers. Fine, but I want to deep-throat six feet of margarita. Adobe Cafe, 1919 E. Passyunk Ave.

• Di Bruno Bros. Pronto is my trusted source for iced coffee when I need it quick, and they make a mean Mediterranean Plate, but since we're on cheese: the simple length of crusty, cheesy goodness that is their Caprese panini is a fund you can trust in.
  
  

• I caught a glimpse of Surly Jim the other day. He's an old head, graying waves and guitar string eyes. I'm sobbing silently into my portabella, roasted red pepper & mozzarella-style almond cheese on focaccia.
  

Veg Out: Privé

Another day, another medi-fusion tapas dinner.

I live very simply. I buy 3 bottles of shampoo a year. Sometimes I skip a few meals and splurge on well-made articles of clothing that are made in our country.



But mostly I reserve my funds for medi-fusion tapas.

Privé is just about free from the Old City that burns your heart to think about. At least on Labor Day weekend. The chef is 23 years old. The servers are equipped with palm pilots so that your order gets to the kitchen before you've even tacked on "the Exotic Mushrooms, extra exotic." It was not horrendously loud and packed to the seams for a Friday seating. It eventually picked up and I did not mind being extremely well-attended to. Dishes came out fast. Servers were on the ball. It's a young, young staff, so help them get through college.

Skordalia didn't make it onto the menu, but Melitzanosalata and truffle-infused hummus gave me enough of a pita-dipping workout. I've had better (Hamifgash in Jeweler's Row does amazing things for both). Vegetarians, prepare to make decisions. You get them here. On board is a flurry of plates that helm to no particular style, Medi-French-a wee bit Spanish. I followed the truffle trail with the Exotic Mushroom plate, a robust mass of wild mushrooms in a rich boursin-laced cream, infused with les truffs and perched atop rosemary focaccia. Multiple orgasms or you're dead inside. Dessert, or you're no good here.

My brother-in-law is a pastry chef.
I think most dessert in the city is entirely forgettable.
Coffeeshops tends to have better confections than most of our finer destinations.
You almost can't please me.
I throw away cupcakes if the first bite isn't good enough.
All of the snazzy coulis squiggles in the world can't make a flaky tart.
I grew up on welfare and should be less of a

Huge Brat. Sorry. Shall we?

Chef is a former pastry wizard, so dessert at Privé appears a nimble configuration. The walnut profiteroles are a small wonder, buoyant puffs capped off with a crunchy walnut crust, floating in a white and dark chocolate lake, dressed to the nines with even more artisan chocolat and a single perfect blackberry signature. It's my favorite sweet in the city as of now. The other towers of dessert that drifted by my table were all visual statements. Some things are meant to be shared.

Privé, 246 Market St.

Flax Club: The Luxe Nut Butter Sandwich

If you're going to spend $8.99 on peanut butter, it'd better be one flaxxed out spread.

After loyally purchasing Naturally More for the past few years, I was looking to try something new. I'd never seen Earth Balance peanut and almond butters before, sweetened with agave and touting flax on the label.

I tossed this jar into my basket, apparently not noticing the price until the checkout maestro slapped me with a total.

I shrugged and swiped Debbi. "It's flax. I need it."

I quickly devised a recipe for a Luxe Nut Butter Sandwich, which would involve Merlot jam, sliced mangosteen, and 19-grain bread. Crusts off. I'll make it for you if you're good.

My first impression of the EB spread was that it needed immediate refrigeration and stirring, despite what the label said. You will absolutely have to stir this every time you open it. After gracing some flax toast with a liberal swoop, I was pleased. I'd almost fluke buy it again.

Available at Whole Foods in Fairmount.