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Wedding Weekend: Heartland, Saint Paul Hotel, & Amsterdam Bar (again)

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One week ago, on a sunny fall afternoon, Jake and I were married amongst the company of a small group of family and friends at Central Lutheran Church in Minneapolis, MN.

Because we decided to get married with relative spontaneity, we kept the ceremony simple.  We look forward to hosting a wider reception in the spring so we can celebrate with many more of our family and friends.  We are humbled by the generosity and kindness of all who have assisted us and wished us well as we continue to share life together.

After the ceremony, we enjoyed dinner at Heartland Restaurant in St. Paul, MN.  The moment we arrived, I leaped out of my wedding dress.  It was beautiful and painstakingly altered.  And even with half the boning removed, it still felt uncomfortable, so I changed into something that would allow me to enjoy dinner.

Photo taken by Pat Carney, The Carney Group, Minneapolis, MN

Upon arrival, I enjoyed sneaking bites of bread and cheeses and giggled as I watched some of the children discover their love for whole grain mustard and pickled watermelon rind. The chefs provided plump burgers for the children who preferred one.

Green salad with sweet vinaigrette, spiced nuts, and roasted cauliflower, crispy-skinned white fish with pickled onions on top of creamy beans, and apple tart with whipped cream and candied nuts.

As I said my goodbyes that evening, I used my fingers to swipe tastes of whipped cream and tender slices of fruit from my tart.  Then, we headed to the Saint Paul Hotel for our one-day honeymoon where we were greeted by a man in a top hat.

This was our first stay at the Saint Paul Hotel and it felt like old-school luxury.  My favorite perks included access to the workout facility on the top floor and wi-fi for no additional fees. The service was polished and professional, though much involved tipping.  If you stay here, remember to keep some cash on hand. In the morning, we treated ourselves to a room service breakfast, a first for both of us.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Growing up, when we traveled as a family, we only stayed at hotels that included free breakfast. My parents outfitted us in fluorescent fanny packs in which we kept our lunches. I remember how we sat on the steps of the Lincoln memorial, and ate sandwiches and carrot sticks together.

We ordered a large pot of coffee and omelets filled with ham, green pepper, onion, and cheddar. Each came with hash browns and toast.  In addition, we ordered a fruit plate, having no idea each portion would be so large.

Although the price of this breakfast was astronomical (delivery fee & automatic gratuity, plus an extra tip because we weren’t sure if we were supposed to tip on an automatic gratuity?), the meal was made with care. The breakfast cart was covered in a white tablecloth. The omelet platters were not only huge, but satisfying. I was most impressed with the hashbrowns’ crispiness.  The fruit platter included yogurt and sweetbread and the assortment of fruit avoided being one of those crappy versions that mostly includes under-ripe melon.  We enjoyed choosing from the variety of condiments such as cream, butter, peanut butter, tiny jars of jam, ketchup, and Tabasco.

As critiques, the room did not include a coffee maker with complimentary coffee, although I may have been some in the lobby.  Our large pot of coffee, as overpriced as it was, tasted strong and freshly brewed.  Our room included a mini fridge, but it was only equipped to carry snacks for sale. We actually managed to eat most of our food, so I did not have to beg the hotel to ask the kitchen to store our leftovers, and we were full until the evening.

We spent the afternoon wandering around downtown St. Paul, stopping at Cossetta’s for a snack of small cannolis.  Then headed to the Amsterdam Bar And Hall for dinner.

The food was as good as it was when we dined there for my bachelorette outing.  We decompressed over drinks.  Jake was enjoyed ordering Trappist ale on tap and I sipped a tart cocktail made with lemon and apricot brandy.

We dipped the crisp fries in mustard and curry mayo and shared small boodje sandwiches on toasted buns.  I returned for the spicy calamari and shrimp salad while Jake chose smoked pork and spicy shrimp.  Surprisingly, our favorite sandwich was the most simple.  It was made with warm, herby cheese and a meaty tomato slice that tasted marinaded or roasted.

I’m not sure how I felt about the Dutch gin sampler.  It’s not that the sampler was bad, but more like I’m not sure I enjoy sipping straight gin.  Spicy curry + gin = burning.

We ordered creme brulee for dessert and ate it in bed.  I bypassed the room service delivery charge by ordering it from the Saint Paul Grill’s bartender.  Somehow, the kitchen managed to pack a creme brulee into a take-out container, crispy sugar crust and all.

Wedding, over.  Fall break, over.  It’s back to the grind.  Salad lab ends, baking lab begins and my five a.m. wake-up call resumes. . .

Special thanks to our family and friends, Central Lutheran Church, Heartland Restaurant, The Carney Group, and Elsa at The Wedding Shoppe on Grand Ave. 

Visiting The Viking Cafe, Fergus Falls

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On Friday morning, I drove to the Twin Cities to begin our wedding weekend.

My stomach churned with hunger an hour into the drive, so I stopped in Fergus Falls for an early lunch.

I was happy to stop in Fergus Falls even though I felt urgency to reach the cities.  Fergus Falls comforts me very much like a warm blanket.  The homes are well-kept and form cozy neighborhoods that are surrounded by mature trees.  The town was especially beautiful painted with fall colors.

Normally I’d stop at Cafe 116, but wanted to try something new.  I wasn’t so much in the mood for cafe food as I was for a blue plate special.

The Viking Cafe is like the antithesis of Cafe 116.  More like the old-fashioned neighborhood diner as seen in movies with wooden booths and pie.  Hence, the cafe’s name, it was lined with Viking-themed decorations.

I stood at the entrance for a few minutes trying to decipher the seating code.  Do I myself or wait to be seated?  The man at the cash register finally directed me to choose a seat.

I settled into a booth in the middle of the room and facing the door.  A server whizzed by and deposited a small glass of ice water and a menu.

After perusing the menu, I ordered coffee with cream and sugar, and a lunch special of fried fish, toast, tomato slices and potato salad.  She took my order and zoomed away as quickly as she had arrived.

The coffee was hot and arrived with my very own saucer of real cream.  I was thrilled.

My food arrived soon after.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The fish appeared to be of the pre-frozen plank variety, but it was piping hot, crispy and not greasy in the least.

I liked the potato salad’s tanginess, but I was a little alarmed at it’s temperature which was warmer than I expected.  It didn’t taste off, so I ate it and I hoped it’s temperature was due to having been recently made (I felt fine for the remainder of the day).

The tomatoes were ripe and the toast tasted like butter-flavored oil.

I can not eat fish without lemon, a personal quirk, and looked around to ask for slices or wedges.  The servers raced around, hardly stopping at a table for more than a few seconds.  No one stopped by to check in and my attempts to make eye contact failed.  I nabbed a server who paused at the table behind me and asked for lemon.  She told me they only had lemon juice packets.

I took what I could get.

Several of them appeared sticky with syrup and I didn’t feel like prying them apart.  I let those be.

Overall, the meal was warm and adequate.  I appreciated that I could get in and out in less than a half hour and my final bill was less than $9, including tax.

I realize the cafe was busy, but I was slightly distracted by the smushed muffin patch by my foot.  And when I reached for the salt shaker, my hand immediately recoiled, as it was slick and sticky.  I wish restaurants would routinely wipe down their salt and pepper shakers and ketchup bottles.  This is the second time in the past month that I have been so repulsed by the surface of a condiment bottle that I wouldn’t touch it again.  

All things considered, I would return to The Viking Cafe.  A little grimy, possibly semi-homemade, and brusk, the sum of its parts was mostly endearing.

2012 Minnesota State Fair Visit: Great Balls Of Fire!

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I look forward to going to the Minnesota State Fair like I look forward to Christmas.  Possibly more.

Like many other Minnesotans, I grew up making my annual pilgrimage to this Great Minnesota Get-Together.

The fair reminds me of an old high school romance who took me to ride the Sky Ride cable cars and read me a poem asking me to be his girlfriend.  It rhymed and was illustrated with stick-figure depictions of us holding hands.  The fair brings to mind my first taste of cheese curds.  And it makes me think of my mom’s last visit to the fair, during her last summer on earth.  She managed to rally for an hour, so we could push her around in a wheelchair and collect some of her favorite foods. These usually included a cream puff, skin-on french fries, a pronto pup, and cheese curds, of course.

For years, my running favorite treat were Australian Battered Potatoes doused in both ranch and cheese sauces.  One year, my mom and I ended a fair outing with these potato planks which inundated us with enough grease to result in horrible stomach aches.  I remember curling up in bed and praying for daylight.  And thus, I never ate Australian Battered Potatoes again.

As an adult, my visits to the fair are brief, but no less anticipated.  The crowds and the heat drive me batty.  Now that we live out of town, a weeknight jaunt was no longer an option so we gritted our teeth and visited on the last Saturday of this year’s run.  The day was hot and the sun relentlessly beat down on us as we ran between un-air conditioned buildings and scouted for spots of sidewalk shade.  We bumped into the people who randomly stopped mid-step, avoided collisions with massive strollers, and waited in lines for bathrooms.

During our 2012 State Fair visit, we shared a couple of old favorites and a few new foods, referencing Heavy Table’s definitive 2012 MN State Fair Food Tour.

By 10 a.m. we had already laid a base of coffee within our stomachs and added $5 cheese curds from the Mouth Trap in the food building.

I’ve had the curds from the Mouth Trap and I’ve had curds from the stand on Dan Patch.  Personally, I choose to just go to the Mouth Trap.  There’s nothing significant that I can add to the MN State Fair cheese curd conversation so I will end by saying I like these. I always like these, and I don’t visit the state fair without these.

Next, we stopped at Sausage Sisters & Me, a vendor also located in the food building.  I have never visited them before, but read many positive reviews of their Great Balls Of Fire, $5.50, a new offering.

These meatballs were by and far, the best thing we tasted at the 2012 fair, if not at any fair.  They were notably juicy and compellingly spiced.  Not quite like traditional sausage, not quite like jerk, and pleasantly spicy.  They brought to mind Spoonriver’s flavorful lamb burger.  My Sausage Sister & Me offers a variety of squirt bottles of sauces.  We chose the creamy cucumber sauce which jived well with the strong flavors.

We tried another frequently mentioned new food, Famous Dave’s Ragin’ Ankles, $6.

The pork was tender and moist, and easily fell off the bone.  They were fatty in a pleasant way and we enjoyed the sauce which was slightly spicy and sweet without being too sweet.  Overall, we enjoyed the BBQ ankles, but thought the Great Balls of Fire were better.  I wished the ankles had a little crust or crunchiness.

Saturday’s beverage breaks included Lift Bridge’s Hop Dish, $4.50, from the Ballpark Cafe.  Jake thought Hop Dish tasted a lot like Bell’s elusive Hopslam, his favorite beer, adding that it had a “similar start with a smoother finish.”  He enjoyed it so much that he tried to find it in the stores that evening only to learn it’s not available, yet, in bottles.

We shared a refreshingly cold Black Cherry Soda, $3, from the Spring Grove Soda Pop stand.  We both thought it was pretty tasty with no complaints.  I was satisfied with a few sips since it was so sweet my lips were sticky.

The third new food we tried was a cannoli from Ole’s Cannoli.  Cannoli’s happen to be one of Jake’s favorite desserts.

Jake ordered a plain cannoli with its ends dipped in chocolate chips, $4.50.  The cannoli was generously sized.  Its shell was crispy and the filling was thick and slightly tart, reminding me of cheesecake.  Jake had no complaints.  As an individual who doesn’t routinely seek out desserts, I found two bites enough.  I have a low threshold for desserts that are rich and sweet.

My last bite at the fair was a fried onion blossom.  Ever since Fargo’s Ribfest debacle in June, I’ve had a hankering for an onion blossom.  I forked over $8 for this large monstrosity.

The batter was crispy in a mouth-puncturing way and tasted like it was seasoned with nothing in particular.  The ranch dip tasted cheap and at least one, heaping tablespoon of grease pooled on the bottom of the plate.  The only redeeming qualities of this onion blossom were that it was fried, the onion was tender and sweet, and it wasn’t the $1 shrimp cocktail.

And with this terrible onion, our brief 2012 Minnesota State Fair visit came to a close with little nausea, stomach discomfort, or ailment that couldn’t be cured with a good nap.

Hopefully we’ll be able to celebrate next summer with both the North Dakota and Minnesota State Fairs.

A Romp Through The Red River Valley Fair & A Gyro Rant

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This past weekend, Jake headed North to Grand Forks while I drove east.

On the way to the Twin Cities, I stopped at the Red River Valley Fair in search of lunch.  At 11 a.m., the temperature had already crept well into the 90′s and the fairgrounds were mostly deserted.  I parked in a dusty gravel lot and wandered through the unattended gate.  Some of the animal exhibits appeared to be open while the midway was closed until noon.

I wondered if I’d only be in the company of fair employees, until I encountered a handful of adults trying to pacify bored children with fruity drinks.  For just one more hour.  Obviously, the party wasn’t in full swing yet.  The midway was expansive and rows of food stalls advertised guilty pleasures of the fried kind.  I imagined what I’d miss.  It was unfortunate Jake and I couldn’t attend together.

I meandered through the food stalls searching for a vendor who was ready for business.  Santa Lucia’s booth had food on the griddle so I stopped for a gyro (Santa Lucia is a small, local chain with a full-service restaurant serving Greek and Italian food and smaller locations offering take and bake pizza).

When it comes to gyros, bigger is just not better.  I want my gyros constructed with intention and functionality by the foil cone.  Iceberg lettuce is bad, as its rendered slimy and stinky when placed on hot foods.  Onion is not optional since it cuts the richness of the meat and yogurt.  I’m down with cones of processed gyro meat as long as its shaves are thin and crispy around the edges.  Griddling the meat can be good enough.

The last gyro I bought from Aladdin’s was affordable and cured my cyclical gyro craving, but lacked in other areas.  Overstuffed, iceburg lettuce, & no onion.  While I waited, I definitely heard the ping of a microwave.  I’m guessing it was related to my gyro because I was the only customer in the store.  I have no issues microwaving food in the privacy of my own home, but would prefer not to pay others to.  On a positive note, the employee waived the charge for a side of hot sauce, which was nice.

At the Red River Valley Fair, the man from Santa Lucia’s warmed the pita bread on the griddle, gently filled it with meat, grilled vegetables, yogurt sauce, and fresh salad, and formed it into the iconic foil cone. I was surprised that the meat wasn’t shaved from a cone.  Instead, I noticed thin, rectangular meat slices like those found in frozen gyro kits.  The bland meat was saved by its garnishes.  Solid yogurt sauce, caramelized vegetables, and salad made from crisp romaine and fresh parsley.

I cringed when my gyro and lemonade tallied $12, but such is the price I’ll pay in hopes of tasty street meat.

Gyros might be in the category where the bad ones are still good.  Just less good.  Sort of like pizza. 

It was an odd experience eating a gyro while sitting, alone, in an empty carnival.  I savored my meal while I listened to the songs of food stand employees and returned the blank stares of ride operators.

On the way to my car, I bought a small mound of cheese curds, $6.  They were offered in about four flavors and I was kind of horrified that they were sold by buckets of increasing sizes.  Although they didn’t seem to be freshly battered, the crunchy coating was light and squeaked between my teeth.  Plus, they were as grease-less as cheese curds could possibly manage.

A step above the variety shellacked in that course, breadcrummy coating.

My short stay in Minneapolis was its own type of comfort food.  Nurtured by family and reunited with friends.  Cruising up and down 35W and parallel parking.  I nailed it twice on the first try.  Maybe it’s like riding a bike.

I tried to stave off home sickness when I joined a partly drunk/partly sober group of college Alma maters for a walk.  We wandered past the glowing Institute of Arts, to Eat Street where we stopped at A Slice of New York for late night pizza by the slice.  The staff patiently warmed our giant slices and tucked them into paper bags as we told stories.  Some raved about their slices of tomato and feta, while I managed to polish off a plank topped with bell peppers and gyro meat.  As if a gyro nearly 12 hours ago wasn’t enough. .

On the way back to the Twin Cities, I briefly explored a couple of the towns I had been admiring along I-94, though I was to harried to sit down for a meal.  And as is probably typical outside of larger cities, the shops along the main streets were closed on Sunday afternoon.  I noticed The Albany Restaurant located along main street.  Its windows were adorned with handwritten pieces of paper advertising an eclectic mix of chow mein, fried catfish, and spaghetti.  I made a mental note to return.

This beautiful steeple is visible from the interstate and belongs to a Catholic church in Albany, MN.

Tonight, we’re going to explore Fargo’s Downtown Street Fair.  Then, we’re heading to Remer, MN for an epic, lake cabin adventure with Jake’s siblings and cousins.  I’m leaving the laptop at home, but will update early next week.  In the meantime, you can find me on Twitter.

What’s a Labby’s?: Fried Pickles, Asian Bombs for an Asian Bomb, & CherryBerry

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Labby’s Bar & Grill
1100 19th Avenue N
Fargo, ND 58102

One evening, Jake brought home the remnants of a happy hour’s past.  I tasted a few bites of fried pickles.  These weren’t the more common version of soggy fried pickles chips that are either too greasy or dropping their batter, but tart pickle spears and cheese wrapped in an eggroll wrapper.  Even though the leftovers were aged an unknown number of hours, I enjoyed the tart pickle spear and the crispy eggroll wrapper that kept everything snug.

Jake also bought me a small salad, which I decided to pack for lunch the next morning.

As I was whirling in my usual tornado the next morning, I grabbed a small takeout box from the fridge.  When I arrived at work, I noticed a strong smell, and felt glop pooled in the bottom of my bag.  I had grabbed the box of appetizers instead of the salad, and the uncovered cups of side sauces had tipped, creating a fragrant mess.

To replace our Friday evening snacks, we placed a takeout order at Labby’s for fried pickles, $7.99 and “Asian Bombs,” $9.99.

What’s a Labby?
Our journey to Fargo has included many “What’s a _____?” questions.  Jake had asked “What’s a Hornbachers?” on our first day in Fargo.  Hence, it has become a sort of inside joke, for better or for worse (i.e. “What’s a Taco Shop?”).

*For my Twin Cities readers, Hornbachers is Fargo-Moorhead’s major grocery store chain, comparable to Cub Foods.  We chuckled at the major grocery chain’s name of Hornbachers, but then realized that the name Kowalski’s wasn’t, particularly, more user friendly .  

Labby’s is down the street from our residence and I have often wondered “What’s a Labby’s?”  Is it Labby’s, as in Abby’s?  What sort of mysterious bar-slash-family restaurant hybrid lurks within our walking distance strip mall and what exactly is a Labby?

On closer examination, I noticed the windows were decorated with dogs.  But, of course. I should have known.  My favorite kind of labby.

The interior screamed sports bar, was surprisingly spacious, and bustled with customers.  It was one of those surreal experiences where the outsides do not match one’s visual expectations for the insides.  Kind of like The Lion, Witch, and the Wardrobe, but not quite as cool.  And lacking fauns.

Again, I enjoyed Labby’s version of a fried pickle, which I have not seen in the Twin Cities.  The pickle spear was perfectly tart and sour, which offset the richness of the cheese, crispy wrapper, and creamy ranch.  As much as I like this fried pickle concept, it left me fantasizing about a version made with cream cheese.

An even better than the questions, “What’s a Hornbachers?” “What’s a Taco Shop?” and “What’s a Labby’s?” is, “What’s an Asian Bomb?”

Labby’s Asian Bomb tasted like a wonton wrapper filled with a moist chicken mixture, seasoned with sweet chili sauce, and hot pepper.  I don’t know what kind of pepper it was, but it appeared to be of the green variety.

The Asian Bombs were fine and I enjoyed the small kick, but felt the flavor of the sweet chili sauce in the filling, combined with the accompanying dipping sauce was redundant.

Not bad, not something I’d crave enough to pay $9.99 for again, but they tasted fine and were fried well. Both items were fried well, as they were crispy and lacked greasiness.  Fried goodies worth considering for a conveniently-located happy hour and pleasant atmosphere.

What’s a CherryBerry?
110 19th Ave N.
Fargo, ND 58102

On the way home, we stopped inside Labby’s adjacent CherryBerry neighbor.  If I am not mistaken, CherryBerry is located at the Mall of America.

A fan of occasionally indulging in tart, Korean-style frozen yogurt, I nearly wet my pants when I took in the self-serve set-up in all it’s glory.  Jake and I parted ways to adorn our own yogurt creations.  Who needs the Rorschach or TEMAS when there’s CherryBerry?

Jake took one look at my CherryBerry and guffawed.  Before this half-eaten photo was taken, his CherryBerry was deliberately constructed according to an elaborate strawberry/chocolate scheme with flavor, color, and architectural sub-schemes.  And it was delicious.

My CherryBerry was much less organized.  There was no construction plan and my inner dialogue was more like “Ooo, tangerine!  Those are pretty.  I like fruit.  Shiny mango orbs!”  I strongly preferred the plain, tart yogurt over the puckery pomegranate variety and the fluorescent tangerine, which tasted like the smell of a Lipsmacker.

The orbs of mango and strawberry gel provided tasty splashage, but more is not always better.  Next time, I will stick to my tried and true combination of one or two fresh fruits and chocolate chips (and mochi, if they had it).

At least I am now aware of our dangerously, easy access to Korean-style frozen yogurt and fried pickles.