Okay, I’m sorry. I really am. I have this growing backlog of interesting things I keep meaning to tell you about in the most roundabout and smarmy of ways, but alas, I can hardly come up with the time. But hey, here I am. Quiet your angry keyboard pounding and just pay attention.

If you have a decent memory and/or the incredible ability to look further down the page at the older posts, you’ll know that I spotted a crazy looking cthulhu citrus fruit at Whole Foods. What the what, you may have collectively asked yourselves in quiet bewilderment. I can answer your question in a quick smarmy link, or you can just look at the pictures and decide for yourself.

From the day I set eyes on that bumpy hide, the gnarly tendrils, and the grotesque severed-limb appearance, I knew I just had to have it. I figured that the best way would be to go on the offensive: buy one of these doggone things (I paid something like $8 for this gargantuan beast. This thing was a major novelty and also a major dent to my wallet for what it was worth) and gather a bunch of friends to launch our collective attack on it.

Our purpose was two-fold: we would somehow put this grody thing in our mouths, but before doing so we’d try some of the Miracle Berry Tablets that I had recently got from ThinkGeek.

Mystery indeed.

You take a tablet, set it on your tongue, and it alters your tastebuds’ perception of mainly sour and bitter things to make them taste sweet. It basically takes the edge off of things such as citrus fruits and the bitterness of beer, and transforms your tongue tasting landscape into a trippy candyland.

Ready to get a little crazy and messy, a hush fell over our party as the first cut was made into the buddha hand lemon. It was the same sort of anticipatory silence you get in parts of horror movies just before the killer jumps out and starts hackin’ away. It was the same sort of dead air before the sharp blade slices into limbs and red dye corn syrup splatters all over the screen.

Uh, well, I guess it was hardly exciting. If you were looking for a juicy fruit, you ain’t got one. This whole thing was rind. Imagine not only the plain ol’ disappointment, but the frustrating bouts of embarrassment as it all dawned on us we weren’t really supposed to put these in our mouths… after having chewed at it for a little while, of course.

But never mind embarrassment. Think about all the indigestion. As a party idea I thought it was killer: group of friends, disgusting food, trippin’ tastebuds, hilarity ensues! Ah yes, tastebuds were trippin’, hilarity ensued, but disgusting food stayed in our systems, and luckily no one died so group of friends remained intact.

The disgusting food we tried after triggering our tastebuds on miracle berries was bountiful. Some of our findings were as follows.

Limes: delicious. Removes the bitter and sour notes, and leaves behind an almost floral citrusy note.
Grapefruit: in my opinion, the best thing ever. It removes the bitter crust to get to that smooth citrus flavor.
Guinness: tastes chocolatey.
Chipotle peppers: don’t try this. It does nothing except burn your eyes when you forget that you’ve touched the chiles with your fingers and then rub your eyes.
Tabasco: do do this. Tabasco has vinegar which, once removed, has a very interesting heat and flavor to it. Becomes ultimately very savory.
Honey: sickeningly sweet.
Balsamic vinegar: warm, lush flavor and without the sour, increasingly like honey.
Salt and vinegar chips: turned almost.. sweet. It was really bizarre.
Goat cheese: tasted like cheesecake. We could not get enough of this insanity.

Other items either were unaffected by the tablets or did not seem overwhelmingly all that different. All in all, it turned out to be a great party with little to no digestive problems, even if I would’ve guessed otherwise. I can live another day to fight another battle with some gnarly, overpriced fruit from exotic lands.

Until next time.

One of my favorite places that’s close enough to work is Toyo Sushi. As per your typical Japanese joint, it’s got sushi. That’s all fine and dandy. But you know what the fun bonus is? Random Korean food!

My coworkers and I are a tiny obsessed with the Al-Bab here: fish roe and other miscellaneous items arranged in colorful bloom. Even in a takeout box the spread is so appealing. The spectrum of flavors varies from savory to slightly sweet to a tiny bit pickled.

Like your other Korean rice/babs, you take the lottery wheel of yummy toppings and you spin it all around until you’ve mixed it up nice and good with the rice. The result is little dabs of beef, roe, pollock (I think), beansprouts, oshinko, pickled seaweed, and kimchi all in a hurricane of deliciousness chaotically ramming against your different senses of taste in one fell swoop.

This isn’t something that’s for everyone, but if you can stomach it, it is so-oh-oh-oh good. On a scale of never-go-near-my-mouth-orifice to I’d-probably-snort-it-if-I-could, this is a definite loves it til I die of disgusting food overload. Mmm.

» Toyo Sushi on 2211 Cambie Street (604) 879-0990

creepy cthulhu citrus, originally uploaded by dreamoo.

I caught this at the Whole Foods just a while ago, and while it looks a Lovecraftian alien bent on destroying all that is good and sacred, it’s just a lemon.

How on earth do you eat this thing? I mean, besides the basic logistics of preparing it, how do you put this in your mouth? It looks like it not only has a (possibly wretched, tortured) soul, it looks like it eats souls.

Next update: I will get one of these, try one of those wacky miracle berry tablets and see if I taste the apocalypse in my mouth.

P.S. I really enjoy that the top of the tag says “conventional”. Oh, of course. Just the run-of-the-mill extraterrestrial Avatar-tentacle citrus. No biggie.

Tibbidy Fibbity is no more. We are now brand-spankin’-new… bestdamnfoodblog.com. Nice and fitting. Rolls off the tongue. Sexy, subtle, slightly salty.

Glad to be back. Going to be throwing (words about) food your way real soon, internet. Real soon.

I guess I don’t really need to ‘fess up. You know what’s going on (or rather, what hasn’t been going on). This site was my darling last year, starting from a fledgling piece o’ gourmet crud to the slightly-more-veteran piece o’ gourmet crud it is today. I have eaten a lot, made a lot of bad jokes, written irrelevant things and made a few friends. You have been decent to me, internet.

My domain is coming up for renewal and frankly, I’m not big on the tibbidyfibbity name any longer. All the opinions I had solicited before I began my blog were unanimous: it’s a terrible name. I knew it, and I enjoyed it. However, I now know it and no longer enjoy it, so change must be made.

I’ve come to realize I no longer am such a big fan of writing about food any more – I love being sarcastic, obviously, and more often than not most restaurants don’t deserve any particular opinion of any caliber. There are just too many meh places out there that I don’t need to tell you about. I’ve been writing my personal blog for a bit of time now and while that’s not for everyone, I hope someday I can come back with another more public persona with entertaining tidbits you might enjoy processing.

For now, toodles.

I’ve been spending less on eating out lately – if you haven’t been living under a rock or in a cave somewhere, you’d know that the province will be implementing the HST shortly, meaning that eating out will be pricier. It all adds up. I’ve always handled my money very conservatively and nowadays I watch my numbers like a hawk most of the time. I was just at the bank this week to set up RRSP mutual funds. What can I say? I’m hoping to retire by, oh, I don’t know, 25.

When I retire I’ll probably end up cooking all the time, and maybe I’ll figure out a whole plethora of recipes that I consider tried and true. However, I only really only have a handful of those kinds of recipes right now, and I’ll share with you my favorite. This one is a no-brainer: these are the best chocolate chip cookies (to me). Everyone likes their own ccc differently; my favorite has a soft chew, an appropriate amount of chocolate, and sometimes a smattering of mysterious nuts. This is how it’s done.

First of all, you need to have the recipe with you written on the most ridiculous (and adorable) paper you can find. Mine is Japanese-style anthropomorphic cheese. I think one of them is attempting yoga. Alan Greenspan in the background is optional.

Then you gotta get your shiz together. Recipe is posted in full below. Set your oven to preheat at 350F.

Take out your ancient hand mixer. I have a few kitchen appliances that are reaching their veteran years, and luckily still work great. This is one of them.

Follow instructions: measure 1/2 cup of white sugar and 1/2 packed brown sugar.

Cream together with 1/2 cup of butter. Using butter sticks is the best because 1 stick = 1/2 cup. Baking becomes magical when you don’t have to spend ages measuring stuff out! Butter should be softened beforehand, but I always end up starting with it cold straight from the fridge. Don’t be concerned with it if you’re using a hand mixer. Be concerned if you’re trying to mix by hand.

Because, you see, hand mixers go VRRRRRRRR

And the next thing you know, you got it done mixed.

Crack in an egg. Just one! Not two, not three. We don’t want to get overzealous here.

Measure 1 teaspoon of vanilla extract. Don’t be a daydreamy dolt like me and measure out 1 tbsp and then realizing whoa hey, that’s a lot of vanilla, am I holding onto a… tbsp. crud!

Take 1/2 tsp of baking soda. Again, don’t be a dolt like me. I couldn’t find my 1/2 tsp so I eyeballed half of this tsp. If you’re a baking newbie, don’t try to eyeball anything the first time. Chances are you’ll suck at it.

This next step, I believe, is a crucial step of science. Take 1 tsp of hot water, and dissolve the baking soda in it. This is probably how the cookies come out so nice and chewy. Take my word for it and try it.

Mix it all up, adding in 1/4 tsp of salt. Then it’s time to add the flour! You need 1 and 1/2 cup of all purpose flour (I use cake flour which I find makes the cookies nice and soft, but all purpose works out the same). My favorite way to approach this is, however, to put in the flour in 3 times using the 1/2 cup.

Throw in each 1/2 cup of flour slowly, working it into the mixture so it firms up little by little.

First 1/2 cup. Don’t worry about the rogue flour above the batter, we’ll get to it.

Second 1/2 cup.

Final 1/2 cup.

Add chocolate chips! The recipe calls for 1 cup, but I normally put in just shy of 1 cup, because it ends up being slightly too much (crazy, I know).

Put those delicious suckers in. Do it. Do it now.

Optional: if you don’t have some life threatening nut allergy and you kind of like to eat them, add some. I had some pecans handy, so I crushed some and tossed ‘em in. Also good: walnuts.

Mix it all up, and then drop it onto a greased baking sheet. Normally if I want really nice looking cookies I’ll roll them up into balls with my hands, but since I didn’t want to get too messy I double spooned it. I use two small spoons to measure out a good amount of dough, shape it into a ball-like lump, then scrape it off each other onto the sheet.

With some modicum of practice you’ll be able to figure out how big you want to make them. This recipe originally makes a dozen, but because of the size I make them it makes 21.

I pop them into the oven and it takes approximately 10 – 15 minutes to have them come out nice and golden. Make sure you keep your eyes on them at the 10 minute mark to see how done you want them. However, in the meantime, I made myself breakfast, even though it’s dinner time. I’m crazy like that.

I had siamese eggs, one of which was over easy and one which was over hard. Added in some pan fried Bavarian smokies.

After you’re done pigging out, check on those cookies! They’re done!

Maybe they look unimpressive. But looks are nothing – you just need to put one in your mouth and you’ll know it’s good stuff. Try it sometime, and see if it comes close to being your favorite chocolate chip cookie recipe like it is mine.

The Best Chocolate Chip Cookies
(Probably stolen from allrecipes.com – if you search for that title it’s probably the same recipe. I don’t remember, really.)

Ingredients:

• 1/2 cup butter, softened
• 1/2 cup white sugar
• 1/2 cup packed brown sugar
• 1 egg
• 1 tsp vanilla extract
• 1 & 1/2 cups all purpose flour
• 1/2 tsp baking soda
• 1 tsp hot water
• 1/4 tsp salt
• 1 cup semisweet chocolate chips
• Optional: 1/2 cup chopped walnuts

Instructions:

1. Preheat oven to 325F – 350F. I recommend 350F, but mileage may vary according to your oven.
2. Cream together the butter, white sugar, and brown sugar until smooth.
3. Beat in egg. Stir in vanilla.
4. Dissolve baking soda in hot water, and add to batter along with salt.
5. Stir in flour slowly until it reaches thick, sticky batter consistency.
6. Add in chocolate chips (and nuts). Thoroughly mix, and drop large spoonfuls onto greasepaper or a baking sheet.
7. Bake for approximately 10 – 15 minutes or until golden brown all over.
]]> http://bestdamnfoodblog.com/2009/08/tibfib-makes-food-the-best-chocolate-chip-cookies/feed/ 6 http://bestdamnfoodblog.com/2009/07/dona-cata/ http://bestdamnfoodblog.com/2009/07/dona-cata/#comments Wed, 15 Jul 2009 05:23:50 +0000 drea http://tib.lonewolfgirl.com/?p=760 I love Mexican food. I’m not gonna lie, because I can’t say I know what authentic Mexican food could possibly be really like, but I like almost anything I can get. Vancouver is good for having a variety of authentic cuisines available within reach, but (so I’ve heard) we’re sorely lacking in good Latin American restaurants. When I spot a Mexican restaurant that doesn’t look particularly frou-frou or clearly un-authentic, I immediately make a mental note of it to go back there when possible.


I’ve had Dona Cata filed away in the back of my mind for ages. I pass by it all the time when I go visit my grandmother, and when it resurfaces into my consciousness each time I try to come up with elaborate schemes wherein my grandmother and I would be forced to eat Mexican food even though we’re surrounded by Chinese food. You should understand that in my hypothetical fascist foodie reality coercion is almost always the only option because we clearly have to be eating the same thing if we’re eating together, and of course no one in my family particularly likes Mexican food (especially the older generation). It’s a Chinese thing, probably.

I was ridiculously excited to finally go to Dona Cata, but at the same time, the mystery has been somewhat lost. I was at the Food Expo a while back and I had the opportunity to eat cheap tacos (verdict: NOM) Dona Cata-style already. However, there was still magic involved! The restaurant is an adorable little establishment, guaranteeing that at least your eyes won’t go hungry amidst the explosion of color and decorations.

I am clearly not an actual food blogger because after telling you about how interesting the interior is, I don’t really have any pictures of the inside. You’ll just have to make do via a little thing I like to call your Imaginationâ„¢. Oh wait, wait. No. I lie to you with my eyes open. I have one right here. Look at this:



I kid you not, MEXICAN TALK. Baby, you can talk Mexican to me any day, my little love empanada.



I guess I’ll take this time now to discuss the food a little before you throw up in your mouth any more. Starting off with a plate of nachos, I was a bit puzzled as to why there was no salsa. No salsa? NO SALSA? Are we in crazy neversalsaland? In fact, we were in some kind of salsa heaven. There were all kinds of salsa.



Being a wuss who can’t take the heat, I opted for the least spicy looking salsas. Of course being a huge failure at judgment I picked one that was mighty hot, and logically following the lapse in judgment went all out and put a massive glob in my mouth. It was one of the worst ideas I might’ve had in a long while.



I did have the good idea of ordering una cerveza though. It was very enjoyable: first of all, it was in a can (Corona? In a can? Why I never!) and was accompanied by a frosty mug rimmed with lime and salt. Wow. Why can’t I have beer like this everyday? Amazing.

We had two tacos each and shared a special plate of deluxe tacos that were slightly larger than the regular ones, and had bits of cactus in it. Pretty badass, if you ask me. I picked chicken and pulled pork, the latter quite obviously the superior one. The double soft taco shells served up on checkered greasepaper in a tiny basket just makes it work.



If the small size tacos were unwieldy for consumption, the larger one didn’t make it any easier to eat. It was largely well worth the effort, though, if you’re like me. I have no qualms making sure all of the food in front of me is shoveled neatly into my yap. If you see the lighter and darker green slices those are avocado and the cactus bits. Good stuff. The cactus was kind of pickly and a bit vinegary – went pretty well with the roasted meat.



With my impeccable timing I ordered a horchata long after the spice had ravaged my palate, the steam already dissipating from my scorched licker. No matter – this stuff is like crack, and if something is like crack, then any time is a good time for stuff-like-crack. Why is this stuff so amazing? My first sip was deliciousness incarnate – what is this? Liquid churros? Holy mother. I am in love. If/when I eventually devolve into a coma please put this stuff into my IV drip.



I’m pretty sure it’s just some sickening combination of milk, sugar, and cinnamon, and I love it. When I got to the bottom of my glass there was a void in my existence that just got filled. It’s good stuff, if you like cinnamon and just good things in general.

I like Dona Cata – I enjoyed the tacos and the adorable little setup restaurant-wise. When asked what Dona Cata meant, it essentially meant Grandma Cata (if there’s a better translation for it, I don’t know it) or … elder Cata. There’s a great portrait of her up on the wall, watching over taco lovers, hands firmly clasped over their foodstuffs and zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

(Intermission: this is the part of the post where I fell asleep writing, and literally woke up to a page full of z’s and then a random assortment of letters. Moving on.)

I’m not even sure how to end this anymore. I liked coming here, but I don’t know if the food was really incredible. If I were in the area again I would definitely drop by, but I wouldn’t make it my mission to cross Vancouver to get here. It is a fun little place once you get there, though, so I say do give it a try.

» Dona Cata on 5076 Victoria Dr on 35th Ave [604-436-2232]


]]> http://bestdamnfoodblog.com/2009/07/dona-cata/feed/ 5 http://bestdamnfoodblog.com/2009/06/bloggers-are-people-too/ http://bestdamnfoodblog.com/2009/06/bloggers-are-people-too/#comments Tue, 30 Jun 2009 08:22:24 +0000 drea http://tib.lonewolfgirl.com/?p=733 Guys, I met some food bloggers. Let me tell you something: Meetups are inevitably always a little weird, but I’ve been to plenty before and they’re always a lot of fun. The weird bits are always fantastic in one way or another because you either have a barrel of fun or at least have good stories to tell about afterward. I was at a photography meetup once and being in an Irish pub with about twenty other people all pointing giant lenses at each other is not only the epitome of weird, it’s just plain hilarious. I also couldn’t figure out if I felt more in place or out of place in such a crowd.

When I waltzed in fifteen minutes late into Alvin Garden on Saturday evening, a table of twelve greeted me. I definitely felt out of place at that point, awkwardly grabbing a chair and planting myself firmly in what was already a cozy table. However, it didn’t take long to settle in, and we were soon gabbing away.

Alvin Garden is a Hunan style Chinese restaurant, Hunan being one of the Eight Great Traditions (I had to look up what this was in English, but in Chinese it’s known as one of the 八大菜系). Geographically speaking Hunan is in the Southern portion of China, its name literally meaning south of the Lake (in this case, it’s Lake Dongting). It’s not only geographically quite close to the better know Sichuan, but also speaking cuisine-wise they are both really similar. Both cuisines are firey and full of hot, spicy flavors, although there is a small divide on what kinds of heat each cuisine packs. Apparently (I had to look this up) Hunan spice is more of a dry spice with liberal amounts of fresh chilis, shallots and garlic, while Sichuan heat is more often than not numbing from a variety of dried ingredients. Either way, I can’t handle my spice particularly well so you generally won’t find me stuffing chilis in my mouth like no tomorrow. But more on that later.

The dishes all look horrific, to me at least. The majority are crowded plates of deep reds: chili peppers are thrown in whole, sliced, diced, minced, any way you can have them. I mean, look at this beast:




And look at this ridiculous plate:



Seriously, how do you eat this? It looks like a plate of landmines to me. Honestly though, if you’re deft and do a little chopstick dance to wiggle your way through all the chili peppers, it was hardly hot at all. Of course, we had ordered everything in mild. I’m glad we didn’t feel the compulsive need to outdo each other on trying to off ourselves by spicy death.



The four season beans are fantastic, but pretty much every single Chinese restaurant worth its salt can do them well. If you go to a restaurant that can’t get these right, make for your nearest exit.



These things were interesting: labeled as pumpkin cakes, they were deep fried and quite chewy, with a bit of red bean paste inside. It was pretty neutral tasting, so I couldn’t really place whether it was supposed to be savory or sweet. Neither, I guess. Still, the texture was not too bad.



I think this was fish maw. I love the vibrant colors and liberal smatter of green onions and chilis on top, but it was largely for show. The kick in visuals didn’t exactly translate to a kick in the palate, but it was tasty nonetheless.



This was by far the weirdest thing I’ve ever had that was in a steambasket. What looks like a basket full of eyeless marshmallow peeps (oh, the horror!) is actually steamed corn cakes. In my mind that sounds pretty tasty, and when they arrived they looked like they would be good.



But they were not. Their funny shape gives no indication on what crazy textures would end up in my mouth whatsoever. The insides are hollowed out presumably so that they would cook all the way through (as you see from the photo). These cakes were sort of crumbly and pasty, with a non-distinct flavor that left me raking the roof of my mouth. I don’t even know what you’re supposed to do with these: should they be a side to something, or are they eaten on their own?

I won’t ever know because as our table slowly began to try these bite by bite, suggestions flew across the table that these tasted like playdoh. If the servers paid us any attention or at least gave us better service we may have figured out what exactly we were supposed to do with these, but not only did we realize after our meal that everyone else’s tables looked like they were filled with much more delicious and interesting items, I also seemed to just know how to pick ‘em. As I rattled items off the menu I wanted to order I got simple one-liners of “No, we don’t have that.” over and over again. It became an annoying game of let’s-see-what-ISN’T-on-the-menu. Very helpful.

Luckily, we entertained ourselves perfectly well to overlook these things. It was hilarious to watch as the food continued to keep coming and everyone frantically snapping shots and discussing the details of our meal. Foodies, we are such weirdos! I love it.

You know you’re a foodie when you come prepared to a restaurant like Kim does. Being a food blogger ain’t easy. It’s not all gobbles and giggles, y’know. There are blood, sweat, and tears… mostly sweat when you eat spicy food. And so Kim came equipped with his own chili-heat fighting device:



Dude, please don’t kill me for posting this.

Here is everyone else’s take on Alvin Garden:
Kevin @ 604foodtography – Wilson @ La Petite Vancouver – Kim @ I’m Only Here For The Food! – Gigi @ Ho Yummy – Sherman @ Sherman’s Food Adventures

Let’s do this again soon, guys!

» Alvin Garden on 4850 Imperial St in Burnaby, near Metrotown [604-437-0828]


]]> http://bestdamnfoodblog.com/2009/06/bloggers-are-people-too/feed/ 7 http://bestdamnfoodblog.com/2009/06/the-one-man-show/ http://bestdamnfoodblog.com/2009/06/the-one-man-show/#comments Tue, 16 Jun 2009 08:22:26 +0000 drea http://tib.lonewolfgirl.com/?p=703 Hey, remember me? Yeah, me neither. I’ve been MIA for a long while, and I ain’t got no particular reason. I just got bored (and poor). It’s a recession! Eating out is a sin! Since I had nothing particularly exciting to talk about (no one would want to read about me making poverty meals at home anyway) it seemed like I was in a downward spiral of foodblog starvation.

But not really.

I’ve been taking a food and travel writing course which has been quite nice. One great highlight of the course was that the class would have a big night out – one evening where we all went out to dinner and would review the place. How exciting! I thought in my nerdy inner monologue, That sounds like something I could pass off as legitimate blog material! My inner nerd got all kinds of excited when it was revealed where we’d be going: Connor Butler (restaurant). Oh, hey! It’s that weird place down on South Granville! I’ve always wondered what that was. I had always thought it was an antique store. Okay, enough terrible inner monologue, and onto the terrible writing that I did for my assignment!




“Welcome, welcome!” smiled Connor Butler, gesticulating dramatically in stereotypical chef garb. “You’ve got the whole place to yourselves, so please enjoy!” Nestled inconspicuously on South Granville in between antique stores and art galleries, the eponymous Connor Butler Restaurant is not particularly self-explanatory on the outside. A snazzy signature for the logo makes it seem more like a talent agency than a place for cozy cuisine. CBR is mostly a one-man show, but no magician is complete without a lovely assistant, in this case a pastry chef.



The special menu created for our visit was simply stated, with brief blurbs leaving much to mystery. The room was atwitter with excitement as canapés sidled onto our plates, the flowery plates ferrying the dollops of our first gastronomic consideration under our noses. A small fork stacked a carefully constructed bite consisting of a sweet grape, a salty anchovy, and a fresh mint leaf. I popped the assembly into my mouth, savoring the saltiness paired with sweetness with a sharp kick of mint, and then moved on to the warm sundried olives. The final canapé in the trinity was salmon with cream cheese and a potato crisp, a savory segue into the next course.



Dubbed plainly as “bread” on the menu, the next course ironically emerged as possibly the most interesting item among all the other dishes. In front of us lay crushed tomato puree drizzled with chili oil, a shallow diving pool for the bread cannonball that Butler was about to drop from above – quite literally.



Butler explained that while he was in Europe he experienced what was practically a performance piece inspiring him to make this dish; he recounted how he was served a steamy gourmet roll that tumbled down a ramp and landed with a glorious splatter into the sauce below. He held the “bread” high above my plate, and released it with the slightest hint of theater in the flick of a wrist. The roll, covered in fragrant sauce, was a slippery sphere that evaded my unwilling grasp. I tore it open to reveal its earthy, fleshy innards, a mixture of mushrooms and other garden vegetables. It was creamy and satisfying, and I secretly hoped that the rest of the courses would stack up just as impressively.



Unfortunately, none of the following courses were anywhere near the heavyweight champion that was the bread, not only in showiness or creativity, but also literally in weight. Three’s Company was one single piece of prawn, lobster, and crab each on cold bisque drizzled with lobster oil. I wondered whether it would be crass of me to consider cramming it all in my mouth at once as a small rebellion to how haughty the serving seemed, but I managed to curb my ravenous hunger in a game of “let’s-see-who-can-make-the-most-out-of-small-servings”. I was fighting a losing battle, as the courses continued to belittle my hunger.



The halibut gnocchi pays Basque was especially ridiculous, as it not only decided to mock me by squatting comfortably as one single piece of gnocchi on a plate that was larger than my eyes and stomach combined, but this piece of gnocchi could be considered gargantuan. The godfather of gnocchi was chewy in a way that didn’t seem satiating. Gnocchi is normally the size it is so to deceive you in how carby it really is – at this size it feels like a carbohydrate bulldozer (but of course, you don’t pop the whole thing in your mouth. You’d need to make sure someone knows the Heimlich maneuver).



The following plate was fish and chip – singular. It was adorable: a scallop gently battered and fried wrapped in a tiny newspaper cone with a mildly spicy chip. The scallop was delicious but it was apparent to me it was not well-suited for tempura times – the inside doughiness couldn’t be offset due to a scallop’s inability to be particularly flaky. Still, the presentation and preparation was satisfying.



The next course was called “Here one moment… gone the next”. The name spelled it out rather clearly to my palate: what seemed to be a swirl of meringue-like substance paired with what seemed to be a compote-like substance were gone down my gullet in an instance, barely giving my tastebuds time to register what was supposed to be flavors of root beer and rhubarb.



The last two courses gave me plenty of opportunity to savor slowly; first the cool, gritty chocolate served in the petite tasse, and then the translucent banana-flavored lollipop. The chocolate was puzzling as there was an abundance of seeds at the bottom of the espresso cup, which possibly were fruit seeds of some kind. There were not only banana but also licorice lollipops, and I was relieved to find that mine was not licorice.



As the evening wound down, there was a palpable confusion among our table. What exactly did we collectively put in our respective gullets? How much did we actually consume? Was it all about quality, regardless of quantity? Hey, should we go to Wendy’s after this for a burger?

With some modicum of respect I didn’t pursue further eats. There was something sensible about the setup of the menu that prevented palate fatigue, but it somehow neglected to incorporate avoiding actual fatigue due to hunger. The evening wore me down as I struggled to amplify the flavors in my mouth to gain more from so very little – alas, what little in portion did not help what little there was in culinary excitement. Maybe I’m a glutton, maybe I was just damn hungry. For someone named Butler, you’d think he would be one suited to cater to finicky types.

» Restaurant Connor Butler on 2145 Granville Street and West 5th [604-734-2145]

P.S. I was told to browse their site with a grain of salt, as apparently it was a) made by a customer or someone not representative of the restaurant and b) the information is probably outdated.

]]> http://bestdamnfoodblog.com/2009/06/the-one-man-show/feed/ 7 http://bestdamnfoodblog.com/2009/04/chocolate-buffet/ http://bestdamnfoodblog.com/2009/04/chocolate-buffet/#comments Sat, 11 Apr 2009 09:38:42 +0000 drea http://tib.lonewolfgirl.com/?p=639 My stomach just made a noise that sounded an awful lot like the smoke monster in Lost. If you’ve never watched Lost, don’t bother. The smoke monster is, like everything else in the show, inexplicable. Essentially the noise it makes sounds a lot like the creak of a rusty ocean liner. My stomach just made a noise that is possibly not even biological. “Oh, what sort of overeating did you partake in now? Tibfib, you card!” That is probably what you are wondering.

Actually, if you’re wondering that, you missed something. The title of this post is CHOCOLATE BUFFET. Bet you can’t guess what I’ve been gorging on. The sound my stomach made was probably indicative of the fact that people, as a general rule, should not eat like this. This is a warning to you sensible folk out there. For the rest of you just as insane as I am, keep reading and take notes.



Let’s shift the blame and responsibility to my dear friend who decided it was a good idea to ban chocolate from her eating repertoire as an exercise of self restraint (lent). Not that that itself was the problem. No, it was the method of breaking that fast that was dangerous – chocolate buffet. You may or may not have heard of this wondrous buffet, offered by the Sutton Place Hotel downtown. (The very Sutton Place that is, in my perspective, backdrop to the lovely Japadog stand on the corner.) The buffet is served in the restaurant Fleuri, which apparently serves food other than chocolate as well.



You’re greeted by the inevitable cornerstone of any chocolate/dessert buffet, the chocolate fountain. If there is anything not chocolatey enough for your tastes in this selection, the chocolate fountain is a surefire way to douse your food of choice in even more chocolate than it is humanly possible to feasibly imagine. Hooray.



The table is decorated with a large chocolabra (see what I did there) filled with small cups of chocolate mousse. I was told this was not nearly as good as it looks.



Chocolate pecan pie in the background, with a mound of fresh strawberries ripe for a cocoa dunk.



The other side of the table, with the typically hotelesque flower centerpiece. There are some white chocolate items on this side: a white chocolate mango mousse, as well as a white chocolate pudding of sorts with a berry coulis.



I forget what this is, or if I ate it at all (probably). Sorry. Diabetic coma.



Chocolate banana bars, very neatly presented.



Profiterole pile. Not exactly sure what kind of filling it was. Maybe chocolate. Maybe.



I believe these were called “rum piles”. I may be wrong.



Chocolate cheesecake. Pretty good crust.



Truffle cake. Decadent, deliriously delish.



The item I wanted to tell you about the most. This is a croissant and chocolate bread pudding. Yes. Oh lordy. Oh me oh my. If I died eating this and went to heaven I would continue to eat this in heaven because heaven would be filled with this stuff. If I died eating this and went to hell then.. um.. it would’ve been mostly worth it, I guess.

It’s called the Chocoholic Buffet, but like a certain adorable mophead comedian once said: I’ve heard of many chocoholics, but I ain’t never seen no “chocohol”. We got an epidemic, people: people who like chocolate but don’t understand word endings.

People, I think I found my chocohol. It is that croissant and chocolate pudding. Good god, was it ever a holy day. Good Friday be blessed with many chocolatey items in my gullet. Happy Easter, y’all.

» Chocoholic Buffet at the Vancouver Sutton Place Hotel at the Fleuri Restaurant, 845 Burrard Street [604-642-2900]



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