In France, We Call it Mal

Clayton, MO, like many municipalities, puts on a restaurant week in the dead of winter. I have no idea how I found out about it (possibly Sauce Magazine), but I can't resist a restaurant week, complete with a limited, and usually subpar, prix fixe menu.

The organizers had a nice website where they listed all of the restaurants along with the menus. I chose the restaurant with the most expensive regular menu, Chez Leon, since the price was already set (25/per). Chez Leon originally was in the Central West End, right across the street from my apartment on Laclede. As a grad student, going there was only a pipe dream. Time to make it reality.

We had reservations and were promptly seated when we arrived by the owner, who was doubling as the maitre d'. We were given the smallest table hugging the wall. The waiter could barely walk between the tables. My head was against a painting by "D. Byrne" (David??) and I was concerned with giving myself a concussion and/or ruining a Jackson Pollock-esque creation that was probably very expensive. Since the menu was prix fixe, we were able to order a starter, an entre and a dessert. No explanations of the mostly French-language menu were offerred so we just made some uneducated guesses: Le gâteau à la Jeanne d'Arc/ crème anglaise must be Joan of Arc's cat creamed English-style. I had to order that.

Our soup of lobster bisque was quite good, with a bit of spice at the end. We both ordered the beef tenderloin, reminiscent of many-a-wedding dinners. Meh. For dessert, my martyred cat actually came out as an espresso cake, which was good but not crazy. Tim had tarte tatin, and apple pie ala mode with a fancy name, and slightly better than my gateau.

The biggest problem we had was with the wine. We each started off with a cocktail, but I wanted to have some wine with my dinner so I asked for a wine menu, which strangly was never offered to us at a French restaurant. It was very modest, with only one page each of white and red. I ordered the Beaujoulais and waited. And waited. Our entrees came out with lightning speed (wedding dinner style) and still no wine. The waiter came back with a Pinot, which is not even close to Beaujoulais, but whatever-I'm almost done with my entree at this point. The wine was bad, and I even considered sending it back but was too scared. We came home and had a 3 Buck Chuck Beaujoulais Neauvou. Much better.

Guess what, we're never coming back

www.chezleon.com

"I Already Know the Title of This Blog"

So says my husband this morning, waiting with bated breath for my [hopefully] scathing review of Al Waha. His suggestion is "We're Never Coming Here Ever Again. Ever." or something like that because that is precicely how Tim described this Afghani restaurant.

Having a Groupon that was set to expire in two weeks, I knew that this was probably our only option for dinner on a Friday night. We rarely eat ethnic food, unless you count Italian ethnic, mostly because Tim simply doesn't crave it the way I do. This is probably the case in many households where the woman will eat goofy shit and the man wants "steak." Anyway, Tim was happy to go to Al Waha because of the Groupon, and upon entering, I realized I had been inside this restaurant space before, under a different name.

The room was super warm-like 80 degree warm-fine by me. Service was quick too. The food, however, left a little to be desired. We started off with an appetizer of Sambosa which is Samosa with a "b" They were tasty and spiced right, but nothing extraordinary. We also ordered the Lebnah which was described as: thick, dehydrated yogurt mixed with mint, parsely, red pepper and olive oil. What I got was yogurt, which seemed fully hydrated and crushed red pepper flakes and olive oil. Nothing green and nothing like what I assumed to be roasted red pepper. Ok, moving on.
For the entree, I decided on the Al Waha plate; must be something traditional. I thought it was good, not great-it had ground beef mixed with some dried fruit and a pomegranate (spelled wrong) and tomato sauce. Tim loves a good chicken schwarma, so I talked him into ordering that instead of the beef kabob. Oops. It was salty chicken essentially with little spice or flavor. He left about half on the plate, which is uncustomary for my husband.

I also wanted to try a traditional drink, so I went with the Irfa Beljoze. At $3.50 I thought this must be something good. I ordered it with the appetizer and it came at the end of my meal, so hot I couldn't even pick it up. After about 10 minutes it was cool enough; tasted like cinnamony tea, which was fine except I don't like tea. I tried.

So, we won't be back. The restaurant tries to explain the culture of the dishes but unfortunately, the dishes fall short.

http://alwahastl.com/

Forcing the Husband to Do Something He Doesn't Want To, Suprise, Surprise

My boss raves and raves about the Ninth Street Deli's meatball sandwich. Tim rants and rants about the God-forsaken truffle oil the Ninth Street Deli puts on "every single thing they sell." This corner deli was only 1 1/2 BLOCKS from Tim's old apartment and we went there exactly zero times before we moved from Soulard. "I'm not going there, it just sucks." After several years of doing business in Soulard, it closed. "Good, stop bugging me about going there."
Setting out for Blues City Deli for a pastrami or perhaps the special, I was bummed as we pulled up and there were no cars parked outside. Oddly closed on a Saturday. "Where do you want to go?" I had heard that NSD was back open again (from aforementioned boss) and meekly suggested it. "Ok, but if it sucks we are NEVER EVER going again." Well I had NEVER EVER been there before so what did I have to lose?

Without looking at the menu, which is placed overhead ala Panera, I said MEATBALL, PLEASE. Tim hemmed and hawed at such outrageous sandwiches as ROAST BEEF AND CHEESE and TUNA SALAD. No truffle oil in site. Tim settled on the ST LOUISIAN, a standard name for a sandwich in ST LOUIS but not standard in ingredients. His included the standard Italian sub collection of cured porkmeats and some vinegar dressing that was ok but a tad sweet for me. The MEATBALL was gooooood; not slathered in sauce, but just the right amount along with Mozzarella NO PROVEL. Ok, I just checked on the menu, it was provel. I am now officially a St. Louisan because I can't tell a difference.

Tim did admit, "Well that was ok I guess. Not too much truffle oil on the menu there [or none]." We both observed that we were the oldest people in the place-it was half full-and this was one of the reasons Tim left Soulard.

The NSD is no BCD but a good alternative especially in the winter with its ample indoor seating and generous thermostat.

http://www.ninthstreetdeli.net/