The rumor is that Chef Batali has taken a powder and will not be returning as an Iron Chef in retaliation after the Food Network dumped his other two shows according to the New York Post. The network denies this and he still stands as an Iron Chef on the show but he was noticeably absent in the judging of the new chef. Whatever the case, eight episodes of The Next Iron Chef were spun off to fill the newly created or newly vacated position.

Symon went up against seven cooking greats who all have fantastic restaurants sometimes in multiples in destination cities across the continent. Further, Chef John Besh had an Iron Chef victory under his belt in Battle Andouille against Mario Batali. Some say this was a soft ball thrown to Besh after given his New Orleans origins and the post-Katrina disaster but this win certainly lent itself to his firepower keeping in mind Symon lost handedly to Morimoto in his kitchen stadium debut.

At the onset, Cleveland viewers especially hoped that Symon would do the city right and surrendered to fact a big city heavy-hitter would take the honor as sure as a lost BCS Championship, Eastern Division second place or a Spurs sweep. Manhattan, seat of culinary culture. New Orleans, a cuisine unto its own. San Francisco, pinnacle of innovation and evolution. Cleveland, buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurp.

Hope springs eternal for the burg on the lake. Michael Symon brought home the gold for all Clevelanders. Congratulations on your win, Michael. Can’t wait to see your first Stadium Kitchen challenge as much as I look forward to sidling up to your bar and snacking on your tasty treats.

Bin 36

1339 North Dearborn
Chicago, IL 60610
(312) 755-WINE (9463)
comments@bin36.com

Type: Contemporary American
Atmosphere: Cool and Contemporary
Occasion: Dinner
Gotta Try: Brian’s Blend XIII Pinot Noir
Take or Leave: Friday nights when a Bachelorette Party is seated next to you.
Booze: Huge Emphasis on Quality Wine
Prices: Pricey but Not Unfair
Hours: Open for Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner Seven Days a Week.
Reservations: Good Idea
Snarky Says: Liked it, didn’t love it, need to go again. Stay tuned for the return review.

As life percolates, an opportunity has presented itself to relocate to the Chicago area. Recently, I went up to spend a week looking for a place to call home and hit the dining circuit.

Big, shiny and sophisticated, Chicago is the moneyed cousin of the Midwest. This cousin has a house of glass and steel, ours is stucco and has a cracked driveway. This cousin is educated by Northwestern and the University of Chicago, we went to Thug Tech and Felon High.

I quickly made reservations at Bin 36 not knowing shit about the restaurant. It seemed like a place where With-Whom-I-Cohabit could enjoy and also a place where I could learn about some new wines.

As is the case with most things I do with With-Whom-I-Cohabit, we immediately got in a fight moments after stepping at the hotel. I resisted all inclinations to shove him in front of a speeding taxi full of theatre goers and unceremoniously told him to fuck himself and hoofed it to the restaurant alone. Like Paris, Aruba, San Francisco, Key West and New York this week had all the markings of more of the same but in a different venue.

Glistening slightly as I walked in the very attractive Bin 36, I apologized profusely for arriving late for my reservation and was shown to my table where With-Whom-I-Cohabit was sitting.

“Waiter, make it a double martini hold the fruit and make it quick.”

Confusingly, diners are plied with no less than 739 different pieces of paper and a 382 page legend explaining how the paper is to be read and interpreted. Menu, special menu, wines of the week, cheese offerings and wine list not to mention the little piece of paper looking like a dry-cleaner’s ticket they give you for each glass ordered. Holy Christ, I felt like I was at the office as I rotated from piece of paper to piece of paper. Had I a large stamp to mark each piece of paper, it would have been the same thing.

Finally, I ordered a glass of sparkling Chenin Blanc and my blood pressure ticked back a notch as soon as the server nodded his head in confirmation. The champagne was place to my right and I could finally unclench my jaw. I hoisted the flute to my lips as I peered at the ceiling and I could feel the faint trace of a smile as the bubbles twisted and swirled down my esophagus.

With-Whom-I-Cohabit ordered a grilled asparagus soup that I expected to be cold for some reason. It was warm and buttery and quite sensual with a thin slice of grilled asparagus and dots of what I believe to be a bell pepper oil as garnish. It could have been STP actually but as the Snarky Saveur that’s my final ruling.

After shuffling paper for twenty straight minutes like a coked-out blackjack dealer, I settled on the oysters on the half shell with a champagne mignonette and a flute of Brut. The salinity of the Wellfleets and the dry champagne adjusted my attitude faster than a contestant spinning the Wheel of Fortune and I was lucky enough to land on AMICABLE. The mignonette was good too. The dry, cool fruit of the champagne, the salty seawater flesh of the oysters and the tart mignonette is an absolute spurting orgasm to the palette. There are very few better ways to start dinner in my always humble, always elusive opinion. Although a blowjob underneath the table WHILE eating oysters would probably work.

Multiple courses including cheese flights and charcuterie are options and probably the most fun but With-Whom-I-Cohabit and opted for the more pedestrian appetizer and entree routine. He had the hanger steak with cheese and potato croquettes and a Cabernet reduction. As you can see, he’s strictly meat and potatoes, please pass the A-1. The steak was very tender, grilled to perfection at medium rare with a nice crust and red center. With-Whom-I-Cohabit also had a glass of Mouvedre straying out of his comfort zone and trying something new. Also tasty, it went well with the meat and reduction; a round of snaps for him.

In homage of Lady Velveeta I had the rare tuna. I waffled and realized I had hardly eaten any tuna all summer so it was time to have some even if I could have chosen something more challenging. It was good. Not great but good. Grilled well (as in good job not as in burnt), the tuna was presented smoking on the outside and cool in the inside but otherwise unremarkable. The glass of Brian’s Blend XIII Pinot Noir was very jazzy and something I look forward to finding retail and putting in the wine rack.

Bin 36 just north of the Chicago river at 339 Dearborn is perhaps more for the corporate set and tourist type. They serve breakfasts for power brokers in neighboring offices and at dinner there were a lot of shorts and sneakers going on. The restaurant itself had cool tones of blonde wood, very Danish modern and high exposed ceilings. Our server was extremely knowledgeable and ran with Swiss efficiency.

This sucks big time. It’s kinda like the look you recognize in your nephew’s eyes before he kicks you in the balls the moment you peer elsewhere.

I was at Halite the last Saturday in April celebrating a friend’s birthday and had a great meal, attentive service and a nice buzz for less than a buck including gratuity. She had the duck confit always a superb choice at any of the Cool Places to Eat Trio (now duo), and I had the chicken scarpiello which is something I never order at a restaurant because I think I can do it better myself. I scarfed the scarpiello and chased the last of the broth with a piece of bread around and around the bowl until the enamel came off. I hope Jack kept Hope (the server) and stashed her somewhere else in the line-up.

It’s been whispered that Jack is going to collaborate with Raj Singh, the owner of The Wine Room in Cleveland Heights but that has yet to be verified. Like Halite, The Wine Room is a cool, little place but never seems to garner more than a handful of people at any one time. I’ve volunteered to stand outside in nothing but a Wine Room sandwich board, but Raj was fairly confident that would drive away business faster than a sewer main break under the bar. Hmpf.

Good luck to Raj and Jack both and let’s hope The Wine Room soars into the stratosphere. The fact that it’s staggering distance from my house not withstanding…

I read a great article in Food & Wine about a new restaurant opening up in San Francisco called A16. The restaurant only stocks and serves Southern Italian wines. Borderline sacrilege with Napa only 45 minutes up the street. Evidently, Southern Italian wine has come a long way from what it used to be. Headaches and a big jug with a juice-like liquid containing twigs and bark was normally associated with the region.

After reading the article, I put the Southern Italians on my list to look into. Accidentally, I picked one out at Giant Eagle of all places. I was just looking for some inexpensive white to cook with when I grabbed a bottle that cost a whopping $7.99. It was called MandraRossa and the type is Fiano similar in my opinion to a Sauvignon Blanc.

I cooled the bottle down, prepped dinner and as I was close to incorporating the wine into my recipe when I poured myself a glass. I was completely surprised! I was expecting a dry Pinot Grigio of some type and instead I was enjoying a bright, floral and lively citrus tasting wine that immediately made me think of dining al fresco even though it was thirty degrees and dark by five.

Fianos are typically a dull yellow even slightly greenish wine color. They’re from Campania and in the case of this particular bottle, Sicily. It tastes of green apples, pears and honey and the high acid content would lend itself well to creamy cheeses and salami antipasto or even would work well in some salad dressings. It would be a great way to start an evening and is a perfect drinking wine just by itself.

I can’t wait for summer to come and to serve this outside when guests arrive for dinner. Bring on the sun and salute!

Melt Bar and Grilled

14718 Detroit Ave
Lakewood, Ohio
216-226-3699

Type: Grilled Cheese
Atmosphere: Clubhouse for the Ramones
Occasion: Beers after work, informal chow with friends
Gotta Try: The Parmageddon
Take or Leave: -
Booze: Over 100 beers, full bar with Melt cocktails
Prices: Cheap eats
Hours: Kitchen open 11am to 11pm Monday thru Thursday until midnight Friday & Saturday, brunch on Sunday 9am to 9pm. Bar open daily until 2am.
Reservations: Nope. Be prepared to wait during prime time.
Snarky Says: A on food, A on booze, A on atmosphere

On a whim a few Saturdays afternoons ago, I found myself trying to find Melt for a late afternoon beer/early evening dinner. I kept hearing the buzz and was ready for something new as I stomped around on the West Side. As I fumbled and stuttered through Lakewood, I was just about ready to give it up before spying it on the right hand side of the street as I headed west on Detroit. Around the corner I parked, at a busted meter I parked and all karmic indicators pointed to a great experience in my immediate future.

Like Laverne and Shirley, into Melt my dining companion and I skipped as New Order belted from the sound system. I knew I was going to like this place. Afternoon boozers were starting to clear out and the staff was finishing up their dinners before evening service began. We quickly took two stools at the end of the bar towards the kitchen and soaked up the juju. Very cool. I was immediately reminded that I’ve hit the climax of my thirties and it’s only downhill from here on out. The days of youth and charisma gathered even more dust in my rear view mirror as I watched the young staff wipe down tables, polish glasses, pull beers and speed rap with the patrons.

We each ordered a beer from one of the 100 varieties available and I tried not to convey how smitten I was with the lean, pixie-like server getting her groove on to old school Depeche Mode. Made me wish I could have tossed my bangs in my eyes and offer her a Camel Light. Alas, my hairline is receding and I hardly ever smoke anymore. Not to mention, I have a reedy voice and elongate the last syllables of words only in a way that those who speak Faglish can, so I was truly being transported back to another day and time.

Lollapalooza longings aside, Melt specializes in grilled cheese sandwiches. Although hamburgers, steak sandwiches and brats are on the menu too, grilled cheese is their gig. Grilled cheese with smoked turkey, Chorizo, ham or bacon to name a few. Havarti, Gouda, Swiss, provolone or cheddar. Even pierogies, sun-dried tomato pesto or beer-battered Walleye. All the sandwiches are served with hand cut French fries and coleslaw while coming on huge hunks of toasted Italian bread.

For seven and a half bucks, I ordered the Chorizo and potato grilled cheese with sharp cheddar. It rocked the casbah. I picked up my knife and fork, set them back down and then picked them back up again as I tried to figure out how to eat it. Costing nine bucks, my friend got the pierogi grilled cheese sandwich aptly called The Parmageddon which had fresh vodka Napa kraut, grilled peppers and American on it. I wanted to order it just for the name. As I’ve relayed the experience, all have laughed out loud at the sandwich title. Both sandwiches were delicious. The bread crunched, the Chorizo was delightfully spicy and each bite was better than the next. The Parmageddon was so unusual and imaginative on all fronts, I was slightly jealous. Soft and warm like a duvet, it was elegant enough to eat at a five star restaurant. The French fries were hot and plentiful without being overly greasy or limp. With absolutely no expectations whatsoever, even the coleslaw was good and didn’t taste like it was dumped from a plastic bag minutes earlier.

Both sandwiches were so big we could only get halfway through them. We threw them in a box and saved them for a midnight snack. As we finished our beers, we realized at least ten people were standing along the wall by the door waiting for tables to clear. I could feel the laser beams and wishes for an inconvenient death bouncing off the back of my head. As tempted as we were to hear one more Smiths track and catch a glimpse of yet another strategically placed tattoo, we cleared out and quit bogarting the Melt.

It’s a young, cool crowd hanging at Melt but if you look around you still some gray hair and a little LL Bean. The grub is fierce and how can one go wrong with 100 beers and a full bar? Also, brunch is served on Sunday. Don your black t-shirt and grab a group of friends; Melt is a great place to hang-out and kill a few hours.

Diplomacy isn’t too easy after a long week when you know what you want and when you want it. Namely now! I was ready to enjoy my first glass of wine for the weekend and I had a pair of green eyes intimidating me from across the table. Lady Velveeta likes her wines bold and jammy and will barely stray out of Napa to go pluck something from Sonoma let alone from the Old Country. California Zins all the way, morning, noon and night. She “knows what she likes,” and that is the end of discussion entrée choices, pairings and other’s inclination be damned.

Although heavily medicated, I tend to be far less consistent. Sometimes I like my reds flabby, sometimes tight. Sometimes quick and easy, sometimes like turkey gravy. However, what I do not like is having a big face-punching bottle of red first thing especially if know more wine is on the social ticket.

So I hoodwinked her. I pointed to a Cali red in the Zinfandel category that I was completely unfamiliar with in not only name but in region too and deferred to her. Had she heard of it? Did she know this area? Was she feeling adventurous?

No, no and yes! Diplomacy prevailed and more importantly I got my own way.

It was actually a 70/30 blend of Zinfandel and Syrah blend from a teeny tiny vineyard called Green and Red from the far Northeastern corner of Napa. Sobrante from 2001 was described as a radiant red and boasted a 14.5% alcohol content.

Joy, the manager at the Market Avenue Wine Bar, informed us it was a difficult bottle to find and she was extremely pleased when her wholesaler had it available. Taking a sip with us, Joy described it as chewy with a long finish. Joy swished and chomped and gurgled while nodding her head in approval.

I gave it the best mimicry of a swirl this Ohio hilljack could muster and took a thoughtful sip. Hm. It tasted like red wine. I swirled again and half-heartedly imitated Joy’s chomping gesture. Hm. Red wine.

“You like?” she asked while raising her eyebrows and glass.

“Mmm hmmm!” and that was with all I could contribute. Mmm hmm. Hmmm. Poseur.

As the wine became more oxygenated and warm brie and pate was served, I began to enjoy it a lot more. It was nuanced and minerally and even at 14.5% alcohol still a lighter red that drank closer to a Merlot or Pinot than a Zinfandel or Syrah.

The Green and Red Vineyards Sobrante reminded me that the whole world of wine is a lot more complicated than picking red or white. You can be safe by knowing what you like, but I look forward to going to Market Avenue Wine Bar again to try another bottle of Sobrante (if they have it) when I’ve had a little less coffee, a fresher palette and perhaps give it a little more time to breath.

You too can try the Green and Red Vineyards Sobrante 2001 for $34 at the Market Avenue Wine Bar, 2526 Market Avenue in Ohio City right next to the Great Lakes Brewery.

After opening with much fanfare and a lot of press, Chris and Jimmy’s was a family affair with the brothers as the frontmen and their parents in the back. The pastitzio was a family recipe if Snark recalls properly and Al Roker featured the restaurant on Roker on the Road.

Snark and the other half went often for Sunday brunch and a man of habit, the other half would go frequently by himself. Although the food was ample, fresh and hot, we both had one reservation. Chris always looked half-pissed and slightly irritated he had people to feed. Not enough to drive one away but by the same token a “hey guys, nice to see ya again” probably would have gone a long way. Oh well, not everyone has the award-winning personality of the Snark.

Good luck to Chris and Jimmy both. A restaurant closing is always a depressing thing especially when it’s in your own community.

“Hey, it’s French!” I exclaimed when I looked at the label and was even more surprised that it retailed for six bucks. Like my women, this wine is fast, cheap and swallows easily. Perfect to sip as you make dinner or to keep on the counter for that emergency glass during the week. A suitable alternative to the Two Buck Chuck or Yellow Tail varieties.