Maple Bacon Ice Cream from Scoop Ahh Dee Doo

Friday was a momentous day for me. Taking a break from work, I instead went back to my high school.

As a substitute teacher.

Weird. With swirling thoughts and a dry sense of humor I got through my day at Mount Saint Joseph alive, but following the six and a half hour stint (was it really that long?) I knew I needed to decompress with a treat. Hello, Scoop Ahh Dee Doo.

This place apparently opened in down town Ellicott City a few weekends ago. Located next to a tiny artisan French bakery serving croissants as big as my head, it has all the makings of your standard artsy Ellicott City destination. Translation? A place tourists will love, and hippies and yuppies will flock too. Not being any of these, I came for the ice cream and the outdoor patio. And the Maple Bacon Ice Cream.

We’ll get to that in a sec.

Offering hard ice cream from Taharka Brothers (apparently a big deal) had some 17 flavors on the board when I showed up. standard offerings obviously were featured, but a few more exotic options (including Berger Cookie and the aforementioned Maple and Bacon) immediately caught my eye. Prices seemed reasonable for something so intensely “artisan,” and samples are offered.

Initial thoughts on my sample of the Berger Cookie are nothing but positive from the tasting end. The service? Not so much. The young lad at the window clearly lacks the same charisma I do as an ice cream attendant, and unfortunately couldn’t detail what a Berger Cookie exactly is. No matter, I later looked it up, and expected the description to match the delicious fudgey shortbread that was generously swirled in a rich, creamy, and intensely smooth vanilla base. Damn you, trans fats.

The Maple and Bacon didn’t sit too well though. I very rarely will throw something away that I pay for, but after a few licks I just couldn’t take it. The ice cream itself was solid. The maple flavor was mellow and none-too-sweet, although the texture seemed a bit grainier than ideal.

The problem was the bacon, which was just way too prominent Still a bit chewy and certainly smokey, it nevertheless overpowered the delicate creamy taste. I love salty and sweat as much as the next guy, but the interplay didn’t work here.

My first visit to Scoop Ahh Dee Doo left me a little disappointed, mostly because the service seemed a bit spotty, and the information about the product sparse. Still, the few clean licks I was able to get of actual ice cream showed promise, especially if more warm days are in order. Just do yourself a favor and sample the Maple Bacon before you blow your tips on it.

Shaggy’s Bar and Grill (Biloxi, MS)

I have a certain predilection in gravitating towards “beach” type restaurants. Born from memories of childhood vacations to the Outer Banks, NC, the appeal of a Jimmy Buffet song, a sunset, and a fresh helping of the day’s catch just awakens some spirit of “damn, this is the life” within me. That said, it’s been years since I’ve actually partaken in one of those vacations, and while I’ve eaten Bison Burgers in Western National Parks and authentic barbeque in southern hotspots, I’ve gone perilously long in search of the right atmosphere to take a load off and watch the waves come in.

Shaggy’s in Biloxi, Mississippi seemed like the kind of place to recall those memories. When I arrived on a Friday evening the place was hoping. Open aired and decorated in the usual assortment of ocean-themed decor, the restaurant overlooks the serene waters of the Gulf of Mexico and basks under the near 80-degree evenings of April in the deep south. Pounds and pounds of boiled crawfish – smelling heavy of Cajun spices and served in pots big enough to provide a family with dinner (plus leftovers), Shaggy’s instantly seized upon a chord of my imagination. A walk off the back porch and onto the beach certainly helped, so much so that I proudly announced to others in my party that, “you know, I don’t drink, but a place like this would be exactly the kind of place where I’d want to get wasted.”

But when it comes to the food, Shaggy’s just doesn’t deliver for the price.

Having looked over the menu and set my sights on the Ahi Tuna, I was disappointed to learn that neither the entree nor the appetizer was being offered that day. I instead went with the Shrimp Kabob’s (the daily special as an appetizer) with a side of the Seaweed Salad, although changed my mind at the last minute and went with the Catch of the Day with vegetables. Swordfish is, when cooked right, absolutely succulent and every bit as meaty as Ahi Tuna, while the prospect of grilled vegetables at an open aired hotspot just seemed “right.” Both were, unfortunately, wrong.

As was the kitchen’s understanding of my order. No sooner had the Seaweed Salad come out than I told the waitress, “remember, I changed my mind.” She seemed perplexed and confused, but allowed us to keep it even after I asked to have it sent back. “Just try it,” she said.

To their credit, Shaggy’s does the Asian specialty better than most I’ve had.  The seaweed itself it slightly crunchy and al dente, with just the right balance of nutty sesame oil and seeds, as well as sweet rice wine vinegar. Use of the Wasabi Mayo and Siracha is restrained – like it should be – and used more as a garnish, and the portion was sufficient for the $5 dollar price tag.

The catch of the day was a big disappointment, however. At $19 I felt a little guilty getting it (someone else was paying as a gift) and the portion size didn’t alleviate my fears. With perhaps 6-8 ounces of swordfish, it nevertheless appeared with an assortment of oil drenched vegetables and two toasted slice of baguette. A dusting of Old Bay on the edge of the plate may have looked good, but it didn’t add much. Likewise, the parsley seemed more a garnish than anything else. Flair, but little substance.

The fish itself was fine. Not memorable, but not bad, either. Meaty and blackened, my only complaint was that it had obviously been basted with too much oil, and was otherwise a little bland. This is Cajun country, after all, and I was expecting some kick. A side of sweet chili sauce seemed like the kind of thing I could get at Panda Express.

The vegetables were, in a word, an awful afterthought. I love the taste and texture of slightly crunchy, charred grilled peppers and squash, but these oil-limp vegetables were chewy and tasteless. Hardly the kind of side you want to feature with your most expensive entrée. Fortunately, a friend let me snag a few fried shrimp and a hushpuppy, which although having cooled a bit, were both crunchy, spicy, and full of cornmeal-batter flavor. Clearly, I should have gone for the Fried Shrimp Po Boy.

I wanted to like Shaggy’s, but at the end of the day I just couldn’t. With the atmosphere, the view, and the ambience it seems to have everything in order except for the one thing any successful restaurant must have; the food.

The Triple D Taco Joint in the Gas Station

There are very few television shows I consistently watch on a regular basis. For quite a while during high school I had a few I’d watch each week, but as I got more involved in other things later in college – and as college football watching came to dominate almost every single night of my life – the list gradually withered down to Lost and The Office. Eventually Lost ended and I lost track of what was going on with The Office (I never did get the whole Mountain TV time zone thing down pat), and my television watching withered down to whatever happened to be on ESPN or Food Network.

If you’ve ever watched Food Network you know Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives is on practically every day, and often time in marathon form. I know there are a million reasons why people claim to hate Guy Fieri (really, how can you hate a dude you don’t even know?) but I like the concept of the show, and like seeing the restaurants featured. That said, I’ve checked out two of these supposed All-American hidden gems, and I found neither Chaps Pit Beef (in Baltimore) nor The Burger Bar (In Ogden, Utah) to be earth-shattering. Good food, yea. Worth going out of my way for with the way gas runs these days? No way.

A couple weeks ago a place about thirty minutes from where I’m living now was featured on the show. It wasn’t my first time hearing about R&R Taqueria, which has built quite a reputation in central Maryland over the last few years thanks to a popular local food blog, HowChow. And while Taco’s really aren’t my thing and previous adventures have taught me that Mr. HowChow and I share very different tastes, I made sure to tune in when Guy pulled into R&R for a visit.

This is a place which clearly qualifies for the show. I don’t want to speak ill of the area, but it has seen better days. Elkridge has a tough, blue collar reputation in the realm of Maryland stereotypes, and given how my elementary school carpool used to hold our collective breaths while passing a nearby cemetery (not because of the smell of dead people, but because of the industrial volume of the area), it didn’t surprise me the area hasn’t appreciated in the span of 15 years. But working-class neighborhood alone doesn’t earmark a place as a dive. Being a six-stool room smaller than my mom’s closet does. Oh yea, as does being located inside of a gas station.

In the interest of full disclosure, I should point out that I’m far from a Latino food expert. That I passed all my Spanish classes in college is due more to the fact that I took the same broadcast courses the football players always decided to take (hint, hint) and not to my overwhelming interest in broadening my cultural horizons. Still, any place offering a menu that includes cuts like tongue, tripe, and head cheese intrigues me enough to try. When I first went in I asked for the tripe, but the girl at the counter (who spoke pretty solid English) said they were out. Bummed, I nevertheless remembered the behemoth of a preparation the crew went through to prepare the Tacos de Barbacoa, and decided any place willing to hack up a whole lamb in the back of a gas station deserved my hard earned $2.19.

I can only remember having Lamb one other time in my life. It was at Clyde’s in Columbia, and I thought the puny little chops sucked. I can’t remember why they sucked though, other than the $18 I shelled out for the dish seemed a lot for something with so little meat. So as I sat waiting for my taco, it dawned on me that I really couldn’t remember what lamb tasted like. Funny, right? There are certain and extremely weird animal tastes I could pick out in outer space (chicken liver, bison testicles) but I had no idea what lamb tasted like.

According to the show the yellow corn tortillas are made-in house. To tell you the truth I couldn’t have distinguished mine from any store-bought tortilla, except that it was thicker and clearly had a slight, gamey taste of lard that toasted the underside. The meat itself was shredded, with a few disappointing hunks of gelatinous fat included. I like melted intramuscular fat as much as the next guy, but after tasting the still semisolid hunks of fat I decided to remove them. The meat itself was what I can only describe as gamey. Distinguishable from beef in that it lacked the sweet undertones, it was grassy with strong hints of garlic and vinegar. I definitely appreciated the taste, and the cilantro and onions made a nice tagalong, but overall I wasn’t blown away. Maybe it’s the gringo in me, but there was too much bitterness and acidity for my taste, and not enough sweetness or salt.

Kind of bummed about my taco, I went back to order a few others for my mom, who was scheduled to get off a plane in an hour or two (the only reason I had to be in the area to start with.) It was during that time that I got to talking to a stream of people coming in, many of whom were taking pictures next to a set-up that featured an autograph from Guy. I spoke to a local teacher who asked me about my Rita’s shirt, and after a while, she started to try to explain what Rita’s is to the women making tacos behind the counter. A complete novice in Spanish, I suddenly found myself reaching back into my hat of linguistic tricks and busting out phrases like “helado sin o con leche,” and “manana, el helado es gratis” (it was free ice day the next day.) That’s when the guy who was on the show came out, and I told him about the Rita’s free ice day. He said he had been to Rita’s before, and I went on to tell him that I had seen the show and wanted to stop by. He seemed more than appreciative and took the time to ring my second order up before shaking my hand.

I took a few more minutes to talk to some of the other customers before leaving with my mom’s tacos (a carne asada and two carnitas — she said they were good but ‘salty.’) It’s at that point that I realized the whole point of going to a Triple D featured place is not a lost cause, even when the food might not shatter your expectations. It really shouldn’t have come as such a revelation to me. I mean, I’ve long known that our perception of food is as much about taste and sensation as it is about experience, and in the adventure and community of going out of your way to find a place “as seen on TV,” you’re taping into that X-factor of what makes spending money out on food worth it. 

Would I recommend R&R? Yea, I would. The lamb taco wasn’t bad. It wasn’t great, but then again, it’s not something I normally eat. I think for anyone who enjoys Mexican food it will more than hit the spot, and even if you don’t, the adventure of trying it out and meeting those who’ve done the same is worth it.

The Best Chicken Sandwiches. Ever.

Thursday mornings at Chick-Fil-A shouldn’t look any different from Thursday mornings at any other fast food restaurant. Cars buzz in and out of the parking lot on an unseasonably warm day. People shuffle in an out the doors. A mom — sore eyed from a late shift and already back in her nursing gown for another long day — is telling her daughter to eat her fruit before she gets to her chicken nuggets. For breakfast.

That’s thing number one I love about Chick-Fil-A. You can essentially, and are in fact encouraged, to eat chicken nuggets for breakfast. And not those frozen chicken nuggets with spotty whole grain breading that your mom tried to stuff down your face during busy weeknights as a kid. We’re talking your peanut oily sweet, succulent morsels of all white meat that greeted you on cold days during fast food runs with your free coupons in college.

That’s the number two thing I love about Chick-Fil-A. The memories. In November  2010 — my senior year of college — they opened a CFA in our town. In Utah. In November. I took three straight days off to camp out in the First 100 event to win 52 meal coupons, and even though I was forced to stay warm by huddling with 18-year old dudes in a fart-infested tent, the experience was worth it. The coupons? Those were great too, but as anyone who has ever been to a First 100 will tell you, it’s the people, and the atmosphere, which really leave you feeling like a winner.

That’s the third thing I love about Chick-Fil-A. The people. I’ve always been amazed at the diversity of the stores I’ve walked into. Every one who goes in seems to love it, and unlike chains which target certain demographics, CFA checks provocative ads or minority targeted campaigns at the door. Walking into a Chick-Fil-A, you see all kinds of people there. And all kinds of people working there. Cows, I guess, don’t discriminate. They even give out free Chick-n-Minis on Thursdays during the winter to anyone who steps in, awkward looking young adults included.

There’s a lot of misconceptions out there about Chick-Fil-A. A lot of slinging around of phrases that, aside from being born from partisan soundbites and a sixth-grade level of civic understanding, just aren’t accurate. But while we may argue about semantics and labels of this and that, I challenge any person to walk into a Chick-Fil-A and not feel welcomed. To feel stared down at, like an alien crossing the silent, divided line of, “people like me just don’t go there.” And while you’re at it, I challenge you to have chicken nuggets. For breakfast.

I’ve been eating at CFA’s for a lot of years, but this was my first time having their Chick-n-Minis. How two-bite sandwich morsels can make such a transcending breakfast is beyond my scope of linguistic ability, but let me try to break it down. It starts with the roll. Half biscuit, half potato roll, it has firm outside with a lickable honey butter coating that pairs perfectly with the airy, warm, and yeasty interior. It’s savory and sweet, rich and light, walking the balance between the always competing ying and yang of breakfast preferences. All this before you even get to the chicken.

If you’ve never had Chick-Fil-A’s chicken it’s almost fruitless to try to explain. The breading is crisp but not crunchy, the taste succulent, nutty, and sweet. It’s as if each fiber of protein sings to your salivary glands, conducting a symphony of flavor that is so simple, it’s genius. The size is small, but the effect is substantial. Your first bite reveals the depth of flavor, and from here on out you’re commanded to nibble away, reminded that sometimes the best things in life are the little things we often glance over.

Just like how the best chicken sandwiches are mini. And the best chicken sandwich restaurants are like a home away from home, for everyone.

Shacking up with the Shackburger at Shake Shack

The Shackburger

As the kind of writer who has been involved (unfortunately) with the concept of blogging since the tender age of 16, I’ve had the scope of enough crash and burn projects to pick up on a few trends. Some come and go, but most just stay the same. Like alliteration. The darling of every 10th grader with an overzelouse comma punch, alliteration plays itself out more on blogs than the proverbial bad pun. Consistent to form, I chose such a title for this post.

Maybe that’s why I’ve yet to land a fulltime writing job.

Potentially degrading writing habits notwithstanding, Shake Shack makes a damn freaking good hamburger. Not just damn good, mind you, but damn freaking good. And not just in New York City, either.

I was in Washington D.C. with friend of the blog Chris Lad the a few weeks ago when we decided to check out the  hamburger BurgerDays so eloquently proclaimed as “f’ing good.” A transplant from its famous Central Park abode, the signature Shack Burger is described as follows:

A 4 oz. burger made from our proprietary blend of premium beef, ground fresh daily and hand formed. It is topped with American cheese, green leaf lettuce, plum tomato and ShackSauce on a grilled potato bun.

Proprietary blend, say you? Clearly, this is a burger to be taken seriously. With cult status equal to, if not surpassing the likes of Five Guys and In-N-Out, Shake Shack’s burgers routinely round out lists and rankings of the top burgers in the country. As someone who has experienced both Five Guys (my thoughts hyah) and In-N-Out (sharing the love there), it was naturally my mission to size up all the fuss.

Obligatory shout-out to In-N-Out fandom

Well, the fuss was right, because this was almost the perfect cheeseburger. We’ll get to the “almost” caveat in a sec, but first, the hallmarks of near bovine perfection. Obviously we start with the beef. Adam Kuban once reported the exact blend to be 50:25:25 in favor of Sirloin, Chuck, and Brisket, but I’ve also read that there is short rib in there. As someone who is on PETA’s most wanted list, I feel I have competent authority to say that either one of those blends tastes about right. What this means is that although it ranges on the almost default 80:20 meat-to-fat ratio, the flavors are intrinsically beefier than all but perhaps one hamburger I’ve ever eaten (that being from Charlottesville’s Boylan Heights.) Crust development is outstanding, with an oozing layer of beefy juices pouring throughout the loosely formed nooks and crevasses. Not even giving my usual preference of medium-well, the burger came out cooked perfectly, with the requisite salt and pepper seasoning which makes the meat standout with being drowned out. 

On to the cheese. From a texture standpoint it was damn perfect, unlike that nonsense stuff that friend of the blog Malcolm has been eating. Not quite the liquid goo of In-N-Out, it does get an added bonus for being melted to the point of releasing its fat into the aforementioned griddle-seared crust. I wouldn’t call it overly flavorful, but I don’t eat American cheese for flavor anyways.

Sauce? It was fine I suppose. Honestly I’m not a big guy when it comes to Thousand-Islands type ”secret sauces.” I opted for it on the side and found it thicker in viscosity than what In-N-Out serves, but prefer Boylan Heights’ Boylan Sauce to all others (it’s a hot sauce, BBQ sauce, and maple syrup hybrid.)

Lettuce and tomatoes were fresh and added needed brightness and crunch, but my only concern revolves around the bun. Martin’s potato buns are favorites of mine, and in taste I found the bun’s mellow but malty sweetness to play perfectly with the salt and meaty flavors resonating with the beef. Likewise, the squishy give of the top bun half makes slowing down and chewing (allowing you savor the meat even more) completely necessary even for ravenous eaters. Yet I felt that the bun’s structural integrity on the bottom was insufficient for the entire assembly, and was slightly offput by the sheer amount of butter on the bun. It came off as less toasted than it was smeared, and I would have liked a little more firmness and support ala In-N-Out. Likewise, I wish I had known onions and pickles were not part of the burger. A little tang could have gone a long way…

A final word is in order about the fries. I’ve heard them called “just o.k” by some, but the hot and crispy outside and soft and fluffy inside was damn near the epitome of a french fry in my perspective. They had really great potato flavor and amazing consistency in texture, although they’re on the pricey side given how many an order gets you. Maybe it’s for the best though, considering pulling a Michelle Obama and getting a burger, fries, and shake will put you in the 1700 calorie range. But who are you kidding, you didn’t come here for carrot sticks.

Inevitably, people are going to ask how it shakes (get it, ha! I’m hilarious I know) out compared to In-N-Out and Five Guys. My take is that at a similar price point it far outshines Five Guys, which can’t nail the melted cheese on a single patty and doesn’t offer the same beefy flavor or crust development in their beef. In-N-Out? It’s close, but I give the edge to In-N-Out based on the “x-factor” of the experience, as well as the Bible verses on cups, flavor and texture of the melted cheese, and the superior construction of the end product. But you know what, it’s damn close, and all things being equal, I think I’ve found my go-to burger spot the next time I’m anywhere close to D.C.

Check them out at ShakeShack.com.