FAT IN OMAHA

Rivera's Mexican Restaurant

noreply@blogger.com (some chick) — Sat, 23 Jul 2016 20:43:00 +0000

12047 Blondo Street
402-932-1381

Open Tues–Sat for lunch & dinner but closed 2–5 p.m., also closed Sun and Mon
riverasmf.com/

I approach any visit to northwest Omaha much like an alien coming across Earth for the first time. "There's a whole ecosystem out here, a whole other world! It's astounding!" I'm known to mutter to my passenger. Then, once I've loaded up whatever Craigslist find sold to me by some bloke living in a windowless structure with newer beige siding, I think, "I should eat since I'm not out here too often."

Thus, Rivera's has become a favorite stop on this edge of town.

After a handful of visits, I wouldn't use the word "classy" to describe the staff. But while each server's diner-meets-dive bar demeanor can only be her own, it's not the group's fault the ownership outfits them in T-shirts emblazoned with the embarrassing phrase: So Authentic, It Should Be Illegal.

Feeling like a washed-up shadow of my former outraged young self, I sit and eat. I watch people clothed in these obnoxious tees march to and fro, holding hot plates piled high, craning my neck to get a look as my dining buddy and I remark to each other, "that one looks good." I want to boycott the place, but can't seem to care enough. Apathy has taken over in the PC-minefield of 2016, not to mention there's rich, cheesy food to be had.

Enchiladas Suizas

Nachos

The nachos are enough for two full meals, chips pleasantly on the thin side with the cheese, meat, and beans assembled in a scarcely seen harmonious balance. With a plate of enchiladas Suizas in front of me, a traditional dish named for the copious amounts of cream and cheese seen in Swiss-style cuisine, I shudder to think of the number of middle-aged humans who have made the quip, "This is low-calorie, right?!" before letting out a hearty guffaw at their own joke.

The bartender once cautioned us strongly against anything with the double red pepper emblem on the menu—I guess we looked like a couple o' pussies. That's fine. Though the beans and rice on every plate appear to be an afterthought as tasteless as the waitstaff's apparel, the selection of enchiladas dishes make this my go-to spot every time I suit up in my spacesuit and head out to northwest Omaha.

Enchiladas Potosinas

Chips n salza

Suizas again

Enchiladas Rancheras

Top 10 Hot Spots RN (IMO)

noreply@blogger.com (some chick) — Sat, 09 Jul 2016 21:29:00 +0000

Hot spots. Think Miami nightclub bottle service. Chicago’s best molecular gastronomy. The plight of getting a table at a Bushwick wood-fire pizza parlor.

Ok, the term “hot spot” might be used a little loosely, but here are some of the places trending in my little world right now in no particular order.

10: Via Farina

The new concepty concept on everyone’s lips, Via Farina promises to deliver its oven-charred pizzas and house-made pastas to you on a fleet of cute branded vespas. This is the first time to my knowledge that an honest-to-goodness decent pie is available for delivery, and I woulda gladly taken some guy’s beat up Honda over a two-wheeler if this could have happened sooner, but whatever. The prices are way reasonable, the portions good, the flavors excellent—and they’re open ’til 11 on weeknights, which shouldn’t be a big deal, but it is. Pretty stoked on this one, I am.

1108 S 10th St
goviafarina.com

One time they dropped off sandwiches for us to try at the office.

9: Oma's Deli

What, you’re telling me you didn’t know about this sandwich shop and cafe hiding inside the U-Haul depot on the outskirts of the Old Market? The owners have done a fabulous job revamping the interior and shunning the ghosts of numerous unsuccessful eateries in this same location. The food—reminiscent of Parisian baguette street vendors—is deserving of more foot traffic, but what can you say besides c’est la vie.

1217 Leavenworth St
omasdeliomaha.com

Ask for a peek at the dim sum guide book at Grand Fortune.

8: Grand Fortune

You’re greeted at the door by a large fish tank before being seated at a booth with paper placemats that remind you you were born in the Year of the Rat and then you order a pot of tea. But the similarities between this and most other Chinese eateries in Omaha end there. First, there’s the dim sum menu—ask for the book of illustrations if want a visual before you place your order for sesame buns and chicken feet. They’ve also got a wonton soup that will fix everything wrong with your life at that moment. Plus, you can heckle the freaks dining at Twin Peaks next door on your way out.

17330 W Center Rd

grandfortunecuisine.com

They have reg Chinese, too.

7: LeadBelly

The waify model-type inside me is grossed out by the name of this place, not to mention the menu that could stand to lose about six entire pages. But if you order right (I had a decent pork sandwich) and focus on the good stuff (ample craft selections on draft), might as well stop by for a patio dining sesh with your dog. Because this place loves dogs. And I in turn love it.

3201 Farnam St
getleaded.com/omaha

6: La Casita

The best tacos, sopes, and—dare I say—enchiladas in Omaha are not on South 24th Street. They’re right behind Hanscom Park. If you have not been, I feel sorry for the void of exquisite pinto bean dip in your life. The cafeteria vibe is not for date night, or serious conversations, or yadda yadda yadda. Just go and stuff yourself.

1328 Park Ave

5: John’s Grecian Delight

If you can deal with the post-apocalyptic feels, head to the lower level of Southroads Technology Park in Bellevue (formerly Southroads Mall), where John has been serving gyros, souvlaki, and more for longer than you’ve been alive.

1001 Fort Crook Rd N #110, Bellevue
(402) 731-8022

My own creation: pork balls with pork ragu over risotto. It was one of those "panic when the server comes over for the fifth time and just spit out an order" things.

Blackstone Meatball also has good veg.

4: Blackstone Meatball

A pretty unabashed ripoff of New York's Meatball Shop, this recently opened restaurant will be hard to stay away from. For everyone loves meatballs. And everyone loves choice—except me, whose poor brain was confounded by the number of options. You can even get three different balls with three different sauces on the same plate. I can only imagine how the kitchen copes with large parties. Not my prob. The food's good, and you'll probably see me there tomorrow.

3910 Harney St
theblackstonemeatball.com

Combo Platter at Hiatt Family BBQ

I presume they smoke things in here.

3: Hiatt Family BBQ

Get all the charm of a South O BBQ "shack" without any of the "shack" grit! In addition to keeping a spotless open kitchen (unlike some other barbecue places around), the owners radiate passion for their craft and super friendly service. I especially liked the oft-overlooked smoked chicken wings and the hot barbecue sauce—which is actually hot. Only open Thurs–Sat 11–7.

1921 Missouri Ave

fb.com/HiattFamilyBBQ

Who are these people?!

2: Shirley's Diner

In the middle of a Millard-ian wasteland, step into this retro-themed dinerrific gem and order anything off the menu without being disappointed. (At least, I’ve been pleased with everything so far, including the fish sandwich, chili, pork tenderloin, french toast, eggs & bacon, and so on.) As a bonus, the tables include laminated family photos so you can eat right off someone’s wedding photo or some grandpa's portrait or whatever. Closes at 2 p.m. most days. Worth the drive. Line moves quickly.
5325 S 139th St (Millard Plaza II)

(402) 896-6515

Poor Man's Noodles is always good.

1: Bangkok Cuisine

The downtown Thai spot with the yellow door celebrates its 20th anniversary this year. That’s 20 years of this family-run biz. 20 years worth of wok seasoning. And their portions are very 1996 as well (back when bottles of soda were still 16 oz standard). Guys, I just love this place. They were on summer vacation and I missed them.

1905 Farnam St

fb.com/BangkokcuisineOMA

Omaha Food: Bigger Than Beef

noreply@blogger.com (some chick) — Sun, 15 Nov 2015 21:43:00 +0000

Out now on The History Press/Arcadia Publishing

Hey. Oh, HEY!

No, I didn't finally fall victim to my rampant overeating, though I've often imagined myself voluntarily succumbing to the same fate as that poor chap from the movie Seven. I haven't been dead this last year or so, but I was under a rock—or more accurately in my bed, propped by a mountain of pillows looking at my laptop screen, chin pasted to my upper chest with hours worth of sweat, the kind you imagine protruding from the pores of all the great writers when caught up in the heat of creativity. Folks, I was writing a book.

When I'd finally emerge from a weekend of this, after my butt and bed had nearly becoming one, I'd routinely dislodge myself around 9 p.m. on a Sunday night, hunger raging. It's not possible to exist on whole bags of Maggie's White Cheddar popcorn, I learned (though my white film-crusted keyboard will tell you otherwise). I'd want something to eat, and not just because I was spending weeks and months thinking and writing about food. But as my fellow eaters in Omaha know, come sundown on a Sunday, the viable restaurant options start rapidly vanishing. Ever try to grab some Salween on the Sabbath day? Or anything remotely Asian-ish in general? Blackstone is a ghost town. Benson is hungover. And come 9 p.m., everything that's not that one really busy Taco Bell is shuttered for the night, it seems.

"Food sucks in this town," we'd complain to each other over some mediocre tacos from a truck we found open, like a beacon of light, at the edge of the earth.

I'd routinely ask myself why I was doing this in the first place, devoting ridiculous amounts of time and money to a project that seemed overly optimistic and somewhat naive. I don't believe in boosterism, so how would I fill up 140 pages with a realistic account of stuff worthy of reading on the topic of Omaha food when I couldn't even find anything sufficient to stuff my face with on a Sunday night?

Well, I did it anyway. I did it because I do believe we are onto something. As a transplant about to celebrate my five-year Omahversary, I don't have a firsthand account of the city pre-2010. But I've seen a lot since then. I've seen the the opening of a number of new, noteworthy restaurants, the formation of some outstanding organizations, the launching of galleries, the painting of bike lanes, the start of new music venues and festivals, and the revitalization of multiple entire neighborhoods—all in just the last couple of years. Overzealousness aside, I believe this ever-changing town is at a very precise point in its cultural history, where we can stop comparing ourselves to other cities and start earning our very own well-rounded snobbish hipster attitude about things. And what better way to help nudge that cool factor over the edge than with a book, one that became a nice snapshot of Omaha food as it stands in 2015?

Finally, with a degree in History, this book is exactly the type of project I get off on. I'll attack any pile of research with an enthusiasm usually reserved for only the most diligent nerd. Now for the low, low price of $21.99, you can come on my little food adventure, too. Available online, in stores, and at events over the next couple of months.

The next place to partake is Friday, November 20, 2015 at The New BLK. Part concert, part art show, and part book signing, it's sure to be a doozy, and not to be missed. Details here.

We want you!

noreply@blogger.com (some chick) — Wed, 29 Apr 2015 12:33:00 +0000

My maiden pie from Noli's on Farnam. Have you been yet, hipster?

So hey. You may have noticed I haven't been around here too often lately. Here's why:

1. I got bored with writing chunks of words that were being taken as "reviews," when they were in fact just my experiences. Also disenchanted with semi-anonymously tearing up certain subpar restaurants, because yeah, even that bad Mexican place in the Old Market is owned by someone who tries to make a living off of it.

2. I got busy working on another project I think you'll like. Not going to give away the details yet, but let's just say this one involves actual paper. Pages of it. Like, at least a couple dozen. Bound by a sheet of thicker paper. With words and pictures all over it. Kind of like a blog you can hold in your hand. Wait 'til you see this thing.

Here's what you can do:

Go HERE and tell me all your thoughts on pizza in Omaha. It will only take a couple of minutes. Heck, you can even tell your Facebook friends about it. We would be totally grateful! (I don't know why I said "we" there. To create the illusion this operation is more profesh than somebody typing away on their couch eating Pringles for breakfast?)

And, as a reward that I'm giving you in advance, please read all about the properest way to reheat pizza, and feel free to convert:

Gawker: The Way to Reheat Pizza Is in a Skillet

You're welcome!

Update: The survey is now closed. Thanks for your responses and stay tuned for the results.

Pho Viet

noreply@blogger.com (some chick) — Sun, 01 Feb 2015 19:03:00 +0000

7923 Blondo Street
(402) 393-3111
Open Mon–Thurs 11–9:30, Fri & Sat 11–10, Sun 11–9

Facebook page

Meatball Pho ($8.50)
What lies beneath the murky broth besides a clump of limp rice noodles?

I never considered myself an expert on pho. That is, until that one time I helped make it over a year ago. After cruisin' the trusty Internet for the best recipe and going clear out of my way to the 76th Street Asian market to get certain spices, I feel like, you know, I've been there. I get it.

Seriously though, I did learn the importance of star anise and cardamom, of coriander and fennel. The delight of these aromatics is, I think, largely why pho is sworn to be one of the greatest comfort foods out there. It's ideal for a long, leisurely weekend meal with friends, when there's sufficient time to pack the entire bowl — noodles and all — bit by bit into your swelling stomach cavity.

At Pho Viet, the broth didn't have much evidence of any of those spices. It was a curious deep brown, somewhat darker and than usual, and didn't smell or taste much different from the free-with-your-meal soup from the two-star Chinese joint down the street you only dared to dine at because it snowed a bunch.

Bottom line: without abundant aromatics, pho is just not that special.

Sliced beef pho with the accompaniments. Sure, it's the dead of winter, but can you please only serve me spritely looking basil, perky bean sprouts, and jalapeño slices fit for a Taco Bell commercial shoot, please?

The family running the place, on the other hand, was special. They seemed extremely concerned about whether we were pissed because their baby let loose on the crying while they were in the midst of preparing meals for us and three other tables. Note to self to try to shed that "uptight asshole" look I must be giving off. Fact is, it's hard to deny the intimate magic of a family-owned restaurant, built by a hopeful outlook and a bunch of secondhand stuff strung together on a tight budget — whimpering infant and all.

Egg rollz ($2.99):
Damn solid.

I might go back and try a banh mi—the other Vietnamese dish people like myself claim to know shit about. And I am especially happy to have had the chance to dine in this state-of-the-art strip mall that's remarkably easy on the eyes.

Still on the search for great pho east of 168th and Harrison. And hoping you'll still try this one, because it's possible they had an "off" day, and because I don't want to be even remotely responsible for the nice family going under because Fatty didn't taste enough spices in her broth.

In a sea of bright yellow signage spanning the entire shopping center (I mean seriously, have you been there?), this one clearly has the most draw of the bunch, thanks to the seaming soup bowl icon off to the side.
Image borrowed from the Pho Viet Facebook page.

LT Organic Farm Restaurant

noreply@blogger.com (some chick) — Thu, 10 Jul 2014 03:18:00 +0000

32513 Ute Ave (Just north of I-80)
Waukee, IA 50263
515-987-3561

Open daily 11am – 9pm, May thru Oct, 11am – 8pm in Nov, closed Dec thru Apr

ltorganicfarm.org

This is a REAL LIFE iPhone photo.
View from the parking lot.

In the wake of a wee bit of food poisoning from a fast food joint (it was the slightly off mini-tub of honey mustard soybean oil dipping sauce that did it, I think), I am reminded of just how important it is to plan your meals if you're gonna be on the go so you don't get stuck eating pink slime and partially hydrogenated reconstituted potatoes against your will. If you happen to be driving across Iowa on I-80, I think I've found the perfect meal to get you nice and full and not be in a position to offend your car mates with factory-manufactured flatulence.

Psst... The restaurant is in an old barn.

The story is something like this: Doctor Guy of Indian descent (or maybe he's actually from India, I don't know) decides to leave his practice in Chicago and move to a farm just west of Des Moines. Doctor Guy starts an all-natural restaurant, using ingredients from his honest-to-goodness, functioning farm on his property, and enlists his daughter as the service staff and son as the kid that's just hanging around and wants to tell you all about the chicken coup and show you how to tear leaves off of trees to hand-feed the goats. It was all maybe a little too tranquil and perfect.

Masala chicken, jasmine rice, sauteed spinach,
cucumber yogurt salad, red beans in coconut tomato sauce,
potato chutney, seasoned chickpeas, falafel in pea sauce.
Nothing was extra heavily spiced or overbearing in flavor — this isn't "Indian food"
as we normally think of it, but a refreshing, balanced, seasoned dish.

Lemon ginger herb drink crack

In addition to serving one hell of a plate of Indian-inspired treats, Doctor Guy also likes to paint his walls with adages that make him sound a little wacko when taken out of context. You should probably give him the benefit of the doubt when he says stuff like, "Cardiovascular work is life threatening." I'm sure he knows something I don't. I'm just going to gnaw on this perfectly cooked, succulent masala chicken thigh, spoon in another bite of super spicy potato chutney, and marvel over how perfectly cooked these chickpeas are. I'll be over here, trying not to think about my mediocre health, enjoying this delicious food that makes most farm-to-table restaurants look like a sham.

Worth a day trip from Omaha just for the food? Maybe. Worth it if you add in the breathtaking scenery, friendly proprietors, and a slice of Casey's pizza on the way home for dessert? You betcha.

Whatever you say there, buddy.
In truth, I'm just offended by the "Stress is good for immune health" quip.
Stress isn't good for anything but my relationship with snack foods.

One dish is served daily based on what they've got.
I believe they can do a veg version.

Ohhhh God, it was so good!
Look at how the cucumber sauce drizzles all over the beans!

One plate of delicious, farm-fresh food? $18.
One meal I can trust won't give me food poisoning again? Priceless.
(Damn, that MasterCard campaign really got stuck in everyone's psyche, didn't it?)

Big Mama's Sandwich Shop

noreply@blogger.com (some chick) — Thu, 17 Apr 2014 14:00:00 +0000

2416 Lake Street

402-933-6622

Open Mon – Fri 10:30am – 2:30pm, Sat 11am – 2:30pm, closed Sun

bigmamassandwichshop.com

Big Mama has some experience with sandwiches, and it shows. (She's fat.)

So, um, can everyone please stop thinking Rotella's is good bread? Just because their stinking factory is located here doesn't mean the stuff is any different from the other pliable, springy, memory foam mattress-like, preservative-laden breads on the shelf at Hy-Vee. If a local restaurant carries it, it is not a nod to fresh, local, or quality. It's fine if you don't care at all about bread, but it is most certainly nothing to brag about.

Big Mama's Cold Fried Chicken Sandwich
on Rotella's wheat hoagie roll

Big Mama's Sandwich Shop serves Rotella's bread. But I can get over it.

At the counter on a fine spring afternoon, when prompted to choose white or wheat for my cold fried chicken sandwich, I seized up. My mind went a mile a minute trying to resist the urge to go for my knee-jerk choice of wheat (which is usually just brown white bread anyway), because something like cold fried chicken sounds like it's on the list of Reasons Why White Bread Exists — along with grilled American cheeses, BLTs, and baloney sandwiches they serve in prison. Why were they even asking me? So I asked her which one I should get. To which she responded:

"I don't know. Do you like white or wheat bread?"

Feeling like a doofus, I said "wheat" and immediately regretted it. But after that whole episode, I don't think it really mattered, because it was indeed brown-colored white bread encasing this particular sandwich. You know, Rotella's. Whatever.

Down the hatch.

Other than that, the fried chicken strips had a hefty, flavorful breading and were pleasantly juicy. I thought Big Mama's secret sauce — something akin to a marriage of honey mustard and Italian dressing — had a nice, just-out-of-the-food-processor zing and an interesting, earthy spice I couldn't quite put my finger on 'cause my palate was busted from a hangover.

One very solid pastrami sandwich

My dining buddy's pastrami pepper jack melt thing came on pumpernickel that was ridged with the markings of a panini press. He said it was a solid sandwich but generally unremarkable. I had a bite and immediately forgot what it was like. The kosher dill pickle spear we paid extra for was on the level of a Vlasic®, reminding me why I always feel like such a putz when I pay extra for a pickle.

Oxtail soup with swimming meat fibers and dissolving vegetables

The oxtail soup had okra, which was a nice touch, but it was smushy okra, so it didn't matter. Actually, all of the veggies were smushy, and the broth under seasoned. The pulled oxtail was pulled apart to the max, reduced to individual strands of meat fibers, rendering it undetectable. It was definitely homemade, it was just in need of some attention to detail.

I don't doubt Big Mama is a great cook. Because I have a heartbeat, I love the idea of opening a good sandwich shop to lure people of all races from all corners of Douglas County to a part of town with a dangerous reputation, as any forward-facing, liberal-slanting millennial would. Her story is very attractive to television producers: in addition to appearances on several national programs, Big Mama was even picked up for her own reality show on the Food Network (which seems to have immediately been canceled).

She's certainly the face behind the food. Or on the food. Y'know.

The problem is that here, it's too over-branded to feel authentic. Big Mama's face stares up at you in places you wouldn't expect. I just don't see the place making its way into anyone's regular rotation on the merit of the food alone. In quality and menu items, it could be an alternative to Worker's Takeout, but the sandwiches are half the size and twice as expensive.

$7.50 for a sandwich pre-tax and chips? Hmm.

I should stop posturing as if Omaha is just brimming with fantastic sandwich shops that could take this place down. It's not. And the over-the-top marketing might just seem like a lot because so many restaurants in this town either don't even bother or fail miserably at it. I think I was just offended by the chip selection. I just don't want to believe that Big Mama expects us to subsist on Lay's as the sole side dish offering, unless it's on purpose to take you back to the hard times of the early '80s, long before kettle chips were a thing. I mean, having to choose between original, BBQ, or sour cream and onion is some old-school shit.

Still, everyone should pay Big Mama's a visit, if not just to see what it's like. Counter space is limited; I'd recommend takeout. If you do eat in, be sure to bring your own chips.

Part of the Carver Bank development, an art exhibit and performance space.

A note: The Sandwich Shop's mother restaurant, Big Mama's Kitchen, was the subject of one of my very first blog entries three years ago, before I knew how to write. It's a little bit of an embarrassing time capsule, much like logging into MySpace and looking at your profile.

The Cronut®

noreply@blogger.com (some chick) — Mon, 07 Apr 2014 02:17:00 +0000

One milk and honey with lavender sugar Cronut® —
wait, is that a piece of mouse poop?

In preparation for my last routine visit to NYC, I started thinking about what I wanted to eat, as usual, about a month in advance. The Cronut® entered my mind, where the thought festered and pestered until I just had to figure out a way to try the highly hyped-up pastry I had already deemed overrated. It didn't make sense to chase an item I was cynical about, but just like pro-athlete salaries and people who enjoy snow, a lot of things in life don't make sense.

At 11am EST one Monday morning, I dove headfirst into a fierce online competition to claim a limited number of Cronut® preorders. The site was fussy ("Do I reload and lose my place in line, or do I wait? Dear God, what do I do?"), but by 11:07am EST, the site was sold out, and I was the proud owner of six fresh Cronuts®, to be picked up two weeks later within a one-hour specified window.

This is already getting ridiculous. Let's back up.

Them's the rules.

Since the Cronut® was "invented" and patented by Dominique Ansel Bakery in SoHo, the demand has been sickening, often resulting in six-hour lines outside of the bakery. There's a litany of instructions called Cronut® 101 that those lucky enough to behold one must adhere to. Consume within a few hours. Do not refrigerate or freeze. If you must cut, do so only with a serrated blade.

The whole thing is a real eye-roller, like so many things in that city are.

Everyone from Vice to Eater has weighed in, so it seems fruitless to devote time to the subject now. The main reason I'm slaving away at the keyboard is the high hopes of cashing in my clout with some sexy SEO action. You see, Dominique Ansel is trending this weekend, even more than usual. And it all has to do with a mouse in the house.

I had pests in every apartment I lived in in New York. Mice — and roaches — are a part of life. In a restaurant I worked at two blocks from the river in Philadelphia, the cheeky fuckers would occasionally dance across customers' feet as they dined, prompting us to comp meals, but instead of profuse apologies, we usually just sort of shrugged — there was only so much you could do.

I did not work in a dilapidated shithole. I assure you that many, many popular restaurants in these cities deal with the same issue, it just comes down to who gets caught. When some ass posted a video on YouTube of a single mouse darting around the kitchen at Dominique Ansel, prompting the Department of Health to jerk its knee and shut the place down, the future of the Cronut® was all of a sudden lurched into uncertainty. A product of the ubiquitous phone camera, the new sport of restaurant pest-spotting is sweeping the nation with nausea. I miss the days of ignorance, don't you?

Now-ironic message on the chalkboard

I shouldn't care. I don't, actually. (See comment above about going for at least third-page Google results with this shit.) The Cronut® is an intricately layered pastry, and the painstaking effort that must have gone into its development is apparent. Still, it was somewhat difficult to bite into, the cream filling was overkill (a donut–croissant hybrid should be rich enough in my opinion), and the lavender dusting smelled faintly of old people. Perhaps worst of all, I had trouble unloading them on my friends. "No," they said, "you've waited far too long; I couldn't possibly."

I wondered what would have happened if I had left this box of Cronuts® on a park bench somewhere.
Would it have made front-page news?

While I have a thing for portmanteau, the name Cronut® seems far too cutesy for a pastry so regal, so special, so lavish. I think, overall, that croissants might just be better as croissants (unless it's a City Bakery pretzel croissant). But at $5 a pop, I can say I ate one before the Cronut® bubble burst. Before the place was shut down because they evidently found mouse crap everywhere. Before we all got too grossed out to eat outside of our home kitchens anymore.

Until last week, the most sought-after six pack in the country.

Update: Two days later, MY Cronut® photo shows up in the 30th row of Google images!
Sweet success.

Lansky's Pizza Pasta & Philly Steaks

noreply@blogger.com (some chick) — Sun, 30 Mar 2014 15:27:00 +0000

4601 S 50th St (at L St)

402-731-1919 — put this one on speed dial (people still do that)

Open daily 11am – 9pm or something

Plus locations in Bellevue and Council Bluffs

lanskys.biz

Sleek font, sloppy food

Imagine waking up in a parallel universe, where animals can talk, the cab company doesn't suck, and your neighbors champion really disgusting foods. For one of those scenarios, you don't have to imagine anymore — you can just go to Lansky's.

We were bumbling around near 50th and L when hunger struck and a quick consultation with the smartphone (93% on Urbanspoon!) ultimately pivoted the car into the parking lot. At first, it seemed Lansky's had the makings of something good. The awkward layout and quaint-yet-hideous interior all pointed to the idea that the food's too good to be bothered with atmosphere. A sign at the translucent iceberg lettuce salad bar read, "One trip only, please." I felt that was legitimate, that the owners are too busy quietly turning out Omaha's best pizza to be bogged down by unnecessary salad costs. The aroma of the place even reminded me of the neighborhood pizza joints I terrorized as an adolescent. (The reader has been reminded that I grew up on the East Coast and am therefore an absolute authority on most things, including all types of pizza.) Tables started to file in with subdued excitement, placing their orders at the counter and then plopping down on the salmon-colored padded chairs, sipping from styrofoam cups and chatting about all the joys and hardships of being a South Central Omahan while nonchalantly waiting to have their minds blown by the best food on the planet.

No, I don't do food styling: the Philly cheesesteak with wayward onions and peppers

But no. Just, no. With the food on the table, and the shock of its appearance faded ("It could still be good!" I screamed in my head), we dug in, only to be met with hopelessly poor quality — it was in-your-face cheap. The Philly cheesesteak bun tasted like a knockoff of something you'd find at a church spaghetti dinner, and as a whole, the sandwich had an off-putting flavor; I think the mass-produced "American Swiss cheese" was the culprit.

Then there was the pizza. Piled with pounds of tasteless cheese and pepperoni, the spongy crust was the color of pasty legs in winter. I thought it might just be undercooked, but it became clearer and clearer that another few minutes in the oven wouldn't have done much for this heap of shitty ingredients. In one final attempt to reconcile my hunger, I pulled back the inch-thick inedible layer of toppings and pushed it to the side, folded the white, doughy, sponge square in half while it oozed yellow oily matter, and gulped it down. I cursed myself for not stopping at Casey's General Store instead. I thought about the last time I had DiGiorno, and how it's only $4.99 for a pie. I wondered why I put myself through this.

The pepperoni pie:
It's true I loathe the party cut and toppings under cheese,
but what I loathe more than anything is a bunch of Sysco-sourced ingredients masquerading as something good.
I'd say it's more in line with school cafeteria quality, but I wouldn't want any children eating this.

By now we all know the internet is riddled with untruths. But studying the restaurant's red hot glowing diner reviews online is more than puzzling. It makes me feel like there's something wrong with me. If this is it, then what am I doing? Why am I here? What's the point? Am I trapped in a dystopian novel?

The way people feel about Lansky's makes me think it's me against the world.

Salween Thai

noreply@blogger.com (some chick) — Thu, 20 Feb 2014 05:17:00 +0000

1102 NW Radial Highway
402-884-5375
Open Mon – Sat, 11am – 9pm, closed Sun
Facebook

Rad Nat with chicken ($6.95):
The menu said it had gravy, so naturally I had to get it.
The gelatinous, spicy sauce jiggled delightfully from the plate to my face.

It could be the exotic sounding name. Other Thai restaurants in town like Bangkok Cuisine and Thai Spice play it dismally safe in that department. I'd venture to say that nestling itself an arm's reach from both Benson and Dundee doesn't hurt, either. Or maybe it's that the parking lot is so challenging to get to from the northbound lane of Saddle Creek, that simply surviving the fight to get there feels like you've earned the right to partake in a rewarding indulgence.

All of those things, and also that the food is usually pretty great, make up the reasons why 30 minutes before closing on a recent Monday night, every single table in the place was occupied — with a high percentage of cool-looking people, nonetheless.

Boat rice noodle soup with pork ($6.95):
Rice noodles, meatballs and sliced meat, bean sprouts, cilantro,
and gailan (I think that's like Chinese broccoli).
Flavorful and warming, just like its better-known counterpart, a bowl of pho.

You won't find neatly trimmed, lean meats, or too much universally boring brown sauce. I like to think Salween is one of the portals to true ethnic cuisine in Omaha, though I've never been to Thailand — or even befriended any Thai people, for that matter. I probably couldn't pick the place out on a map (kidding). Point is, I can't masquerade as an expert. But I do know that the adjacent specialty grocery store, where many of the restaurant's ingredients are most likely cultivated, intensifies the legitimacy of the whole place.

Spring rolls were filled to the brim with snappy veggies
and an occasional shrimp.
Curious upright presentation was a bonus.

Dipped in spicy orange sauce this is a refreshing way to start the meal.
Fixin's for the noodle soup in the background.

In lieu of describing this particular meal in detail, since so many of us have already been here a bunch, here's my lowdown: all of the curries are fantastic, most likely the best in town. Last fall, a disappointing, gross experience involving overly mushy, coagulated noodles on the Pad See Yew nearly cost the restaurant a lifetime of my valuable patronage. But now I'm back, and I'm ordering the Rad Nat, courageously staring any sort of jelly-like texture right in the face. I'm slurping on my dining buddy's noodle soup, complete with the "teaspoon of blood" as dictated on the menu, and I'm chomping on a round of girthy spring rolls wrapped in extra sticky rice paper. It's an adventure in spices and textures, people. And surely, you're up for the ride.

All of that said, don't go here to dine in if you're in a hurry. Just don't. And don't mind the fact that the single-room, open floor plan makes you feel like you're in some sort of weird cafeteria/living room hybrid. If you want a giant Buddha fountain (all Eastern religious figures are Buddha to me) to distract you while you eat, go to Brooklyn.

Thai tea provides a little cool-off so you can properly handle a proper spice level 9.

Good Day Sacramento

noreply@blogger.com (some chick) — Sun, 02 Feb 2014 18:55:00 +0000

Today I think I did a decent job pretending I give a hoot about football in favor of pimping our city out on oh-so-exotic Californian network TV. Thanks to Good Day Sacramento for caring and to Peyton Manning, whoever that is.

Chinatown

noreply@blogger.com (some chick) — Fri, 31 Jan 2014 02:54:00 +0000

3720 Leavenworth Street
402-342-3068
Open Mon – Thurs 10:30am – 10pm, Fri & Sat 10:30am – 11pm, Sun 11:30am – 10pm
Delivery with $10 minimum
chinatownomaha.com

Signage that suggests they've been around since at least 2001,
plus the Marylebone in the background and Mother India in the distance,
making up the culinary corridor of Leavenworth Street.

I used to pass this place on Leavenworth without looking up. I hadn't given it more than one or two subconscious, dismissive thoughts that didn't even come close to making it to the forefront of my mind. I fully assumed, based on location, signage, and the fact that no one I know ever mentions it, that it was simply not for me. The sauces would be syrupy and sugary, nearly undigestible. The meats would have a freezer-burned aftertaste. The vegetables, questionable, and the rice, dry. It might as well have had bullet proof glass dividing the kitchen from the outside world. (I'm not claiming to be some tough bitch or anything, but there are a number of take-out joints in Philly like that.)

Point is, there are a lot of bad Chinese places in town, kids. Watch yourselves.

Little did I know, the grease pool forming while taking this
photo nearly cost me my zebra print tablecloth.

It's true that the first time I ate food from here I woke up twice during the night, too thirsty to even consider a glass, going straight for the faucet while cupping my hands. That's likely more due to the fact that I not only "tried," but pretty much finished two whole entrees. A double dose of sodium will do that.

Let me walk you through that evening.

#C15, Kung Pao Chicken Combo Platter

First, when I ran into an acquaintance on the street, I felt compelled to say I was simply going for a walk, instead of "going to gorge myself at that guaranteed disgusting Chinese place directly behind us." With that major bullet dodged, I entered, placed my order for two at the counter, Facebooked in the corner of the dingy, gray dining room, and quietly collected my brown paper bag after a short eight minutes.

The Kung Pao chicken seemed, as a whole, undercooked, with veggies still too snappy and peanuts somewhat slimy and raw. The lo mein had a sorry vegetable variety, limited to poorly cut carrots, broccoli, and cabbage. I piled it all on one plate and couldn't quite discern the differences in flavor of the two. The egg roll, with tiny bits of minced pork inside, was insanely greasy. I thought about a future devoted to improving temperature control of commercial deep fryers as I ate it, slowly, intense and immediate guilt forming with every bite.

#39, Vegetable Lo Mein

I vowed to never go back, knowing full well I would because it's convenient, and probably soon.

The second visit, which happened to be on Christmas, provided a feast fit for a holiday absent of city bus service: General Tso's chicken swimming in a luridly sweet, addictive sauce, served with another egg roll I swore I'd throw away and instead munched on once it had chilled off a few hours later. A small order of broccoli in spicy garlic sauce (because it's important to get your veggies) actually had some spice.

These days, instead of dismissing this restaurant whenever I pass, it conjures thoughts of semi-enjoyment, of retiring early for the evening surrounded by an assortment of little white boxes. In this, my fat person fantasy, I never forget to ask for chopsticks.

Chinatown is not good food by any conventional measurements, but if you order carefully, you might just come away satisfied. Suggested strictly for delivery on a crappy weather day, I say get your usual Chinese dish and see how it stacks up against the likes of nearby Rice Bowl and Three's Happiness, two also not very good restaurants. Who knows — you might be pleasantly surprised.

Frank's Pizzeria (and other thoughts)

noreply@blogger.com (some chick) — Sun, 05 Jan 2014 04:31:00 +0000

711 North 132nd Street
402-493-0404
Open Mon-Thurs 11am-9pm, Fri & Sat 11am-10pm, Sun 3pm-9pm
franksnewyorkpizza.com

One time we ordered a bunch of Frank's at work. It lasted five minutes.

As I sat today compulsively wringing the excess cream cheese from my jalapeño popper before submerging it in a ranch bath, anticipating another just sorta decent pie at Frank's, I thought I'd weigh in. The Omaha World Herald recently named Frank's one of the three best pizzas in Omaha, specifically dominating the "less fancy" category. I found that interesting because I've eaten at Frank's four times in the last two months, but not necessarily because I love it. A more accurate description of why I make the trip Out West would be that I don't regret it. It's not bad by any means. It's just not that great.

Frank's is decent, but this pile of raw onions and
floppy sausage, combined with the wonky pizza cutter work,
sort of beg the question,
"What the heck is going on here?"

The cheese, sometimes with a grainy quality, often comes not melted enough -- it's definitely not the bubbling, browned appearance desired of New York-style pizza. In fact, both the sausage and onion on today's pie were curiously undercooked. The crust, however oven charred on the bottom it may be, somehow manages to reduce to a soggy state within minutes. A "best pizza" title holder might want to address this major structural flaw. It flops under the weight almost immediately.

Still, for the most part, Frank knows what he's doing. Overall, the assemblage of dough, cheese, and sauce tastes good enough to come back to, though I can't quite explain why.

Brick Oven likes to serve slices with an unusual 90° angle.

If you're looking for another New York-style option, try Brick Oven. Concealed in the shadows of Nebraska Furniture Mart, this pie -- available by the slice -- has a much sturdier and more flavorful crust. I can't vouch at all for consistency (one time I had to leave behind a mangled pile of stringy cheese and chewy sausage on the plate) but on a good day, it might just be better than Frank's. Plus, the place reminds me exactly of the mom-and-pop pizza joints I grew up eating at, save for the zealous owner/operator behind the counter who might be overbearing or just extremely passionate about his brand.

I'm partial to New York-style because I grew up with it. But I like Neapolitan. I like Sicilian. I'll own up to my vices and admit I even have a soft spot for total junk food Godfather's garbage when the time is right. Mostly, though, I'm a sucker for a timeworn recipe, or at least a healthy fervor for the craft of pizza making that doesn't wane after a few years. I think that's what makes a good pie, no matter what your style preference may be.

Consider the gallery below for a few other good ones in town:

A recent gut busting cheesy favorite,
albeit with an unimpressive crust
considering the owner's penchant for baking,
is the meatball pizza at Nicola's in the Old Market.

(UPDATE: A more recent visit revealed an herby, buttery,
flavorful crust. I stand corrected.)

Tasty Pastry serves personal sized pizzas on the cheap.
Here, atop an absolutely delectable, chewy crust,
are Brussels sprouts, pecorino, brie, bacon, and onions.

This is what Baxter's in Benson looked like when it first opened:
I'll trade you a sloppy pile of haute toppings
artfully made from local ingredients for a crust that's not corrugated cardboard.

This tasty jalapeño bacon slice illustrates the progression
of working out the recipe kinks at Baxter's. Cheers.

Denying yourself a Dante pie because you're
repelled by its unfortunate location would be a shame.
The "Amore di carni" is a love worth dying for, even if that's just a
cheesy claim meant to convey that this
Neapolitan-style pizza is really effing good.

More Frank's

Fat in Philly: Syrenka Luncheonette

noreply@blogger.com (some chick) — Sun, 15 Dec 2013 17:11:00 +0000

A proper golumpki.
We called 'em holubky, the Slovak name, growing up.

This is without a doubt the worst time of the year. With the days still getting shorter, and a 30-degree forecast looking balmy, the light at the end of the tunnel is far too faint. If you're anything like me and loathe winter and all the restrictions it brings, you, too, will benefit from the comfort of minced meat wrapped in cabbage leaves covered in tomato sauce, potato-and-dough dumplings sauteed in butter and slathered with sour cream, and cakes of shredded potato, fried to crispy-edged perfection.

Should you be the brave one to enter the kitchen with the expectation of delivering some sort of joyous meal for your family members this holiday season, I'd recommend taking a cue from everyone's favorite up-and-coming Europeans, the Poles. It's a story told here through the eyes of the busty and beautiful mermaid Syrenka, who swam from Warsaw to Northeast Philadelphia with a desire to serve cafeteria-style, satisfying meals to working class East Coast a-holes some time ago.

Potato pierogis, a thing of beauty and butter.

Oh, when chilled applesauce meets
the steaming hot, chewy center of a potato pancake.

Syrenka Luncehonette is located in the Port Richmond section of Philly at 3173 Richmond Street. Everything's cheap. Cash only.

Omelet & Viet Cuisine

noreply@blogger.com (some chick) — Mon, 11 Nov 2013 06:12:00 +0000

16808 Audrey Street (168th and Harrison)
(402) 657-3269
Open 8am to 7:30pm daily, Sundays 'til 5:30pm, I'd call to confirm before driving way the hell out there
http://vietcuisine.webr.ly
-OR-

Just look at that cute logo, woudja?

All right, I've had it. This is me, throwing my hands up in exasperation, because this is not effing fair. Listen, I'm not a West Omaha hater. I have never once uttered that line about not wanting to go west of 72nd Street. Westies are people, too; who are we to judge? They eat, work, and live just like the rest of us, except their existence takes place inside the hastily planned celebration of sameness we know as the McMansion. Regardless of what your stance is, I think we can all admit it's a great place to raise (sheltered) children.

Clearly, I have a beef with the concept of urban sprawl, and would implore those in "power" to focus on strengthening our core neighborhoods, preferably in such a way that doesn't reflect wildly misplaced sub-suburban sensibilities (I'm looking at you, Midtown Crossing).

Egg rolls

When Vietnamese and breakfast collide:
Sausage fried rice, complete with large bits of fried egg, charred corn,
and forgettable specs of peas and green beans,
provide a cheery dish to grease you up any time of day.

The point I'm bemoaning is that some of the absolute best, most adventurous, and most reasonably priced food in Omaha can be found only in the far corners of our city limits, suffocating in an unbecoming strip mall, while meanwhile, famished urban dwellers get to rely on the likes of Jimmy John's when jonesing for something quick, cheap, and fast.

What I wouldn't give to have Omelet & Viet Cuisine in my backyard.

Sharing a parking lot with a gas station in the bustling neighborhood of Chalco HIlls, this restaurant used to be called The Omelet Factory, a mostly takeout breakfast place that, up until it changed hands three months ago, garnered some flagrantly mediocre reviews. Do not be confused. While the new guys have mostly preserved the standard egg-centric menu for now -- with routine items like French toast and even a meat lovers omelet dominating its pages -- they've also made a major move in the direction of Vietnamese cuisine.

Beef pho and its typical vegetable accompaniments

The result is a slightly strange and yet delicious new addition to our small collection of go-to places for Vietnamese. Though admittedly I am not a diehard expert on the topic, the pho broth certainly seemed more flavorful and somewhat thicker than most. We didn't leave until every drop had been drank, every noodle slurped. One bite into the banh mi, when the slightly sweet earthiness of the pate -- which had nearly melted into each crevice of the toasted, crusty baguette -- hit my taste buds, I attained a sense of well-being only akin to the serotonin boost of a thousand psychedelics. Wild spurts of A Very Jazzy Christmas from the stereo only heightened the mood.

BBQ Pork Banh Mi:
If you look closely, you can spot
a crumb of pate resting atop the elongated cucumber slice,
and a chunk of crispy pork in the foreground,
elegantly reposed amongst the julienned carrots.

I'll continue to lament the half-hour travel time and gallons of precious gasoline involved in experiencing such quality in comfort food. I believe this type of place belongs just a stroll down the block from people who are willing to stand in a line that circles that block just to get it. In my dreams I'll frequent this clumsily named ethnic food gem, but in reality I will only get to go twice a year or so. I can only hope Chalco Hillsians know how good they've got it. I think they do.

The three entrees, appetizer, and three soft drinks came to about $26 pre-tip,
a value that may offset travel costs for many of us.

The Diner

noreply@blogger.com (some chick) — Sun, 10 Nov 2013 04:18:00 +0000

409 South 12th Street

402.341.9870

Open daily 6:30am to 2:30pm, Sundays at 7:30am

Facebook

Inspired to point out the duct tape that is apparently holding the clock together at the corners. That is all.

Some of you may already know I came of age in the deep, sticky comfort of a diner booth back East. Old enough to pretend to like chain smoking but too young to know people to buy us beer, we toiled our late nights away over plates full of bacon and scrambled eggs, all while expertly keeping the proper milk and sugar ratio between refills poured warily by a uniformed waitress too tired to care she wasn't going to get a great tip from us young idiots.

I don't know why it took me so long to dine at the silver-paneled New Jersey knockoff with the shockingly creative name in the Old Market, but after hearing stories of its state while under former management, I'm glad I waited. The Diner changed hands about a year ago, and it seems what we have now is a perfectly respectable place to eat a boastfully unhealthy meal any day of the week.

The arrival of the food took what seemed like an eternity in my shaky, morning-after mind, but it gave me a chance to chug two cups of decent black coffee with at least half the fervor I'd have if it were Hopluia. At least, it wasn't strikingly bland, weak, or overly acidic, like the brew served in similar establishments.

Chicken Fried Steak,
complete with traditional deep fryer basket indentations in the breading,
and a peppery, delightfully fatty gravy.

My dining buddy donated a quarter of his chicken fried steak, and I'm glad, because the evident saltiness of the breading paired with the goopiest of white gravies turned out to be my favorite item on the table. In fact, it may be the most suitable breakfast in the area for those of you who opted for a liquid-only dinner the night before. The hashbrowns were served impressively, well, browned, a feat any short-order cook can tell you is tricky to do quickly, though often requested. I was also a fan of the hands-off yet effective service: servers came by unobtrusively to refill coffee and clear plates without interrupting our nonsensical conversations.

"Heartland" Omelette:
Chopped bacon, onions, green peppers, and tomatoes
barely sauteed and wrapped into a thin layer of cooked egg.
While the flavor was proper, the execution was bothersome,
and demanded we devote the next ten minutes of conversation
to an impromptu session on the finer points of omelette making.

So the eggs came over easy when they should have been over medium. So they took that dreaded shortcut with the omelette and stuffed a pile of limp veggies into a thin layer of cooked egg before wrapping it up like some sort of strange burrito-like thing, instead of just cooking the fillings right into the egg. So my stomach is still churning from this meal eaten a distressing ten hours ago. It's much more likely that has to do with last night's escapades than this morning's grease content. Like I always say, don't expect too much and you won't be disappointed -- words to live by.

Recently Drank That Wasn't Beer

noreply@blogger.com (some chick) — Thu, 20 Jun 2013 01:21:00 +0000

Dill Collins, The Berry & Rye
Notice the ice cubes that are actually "cubes,"
and not "weird hollow ice cylinders from an industrial machine" or "ice chips."

...

House Margarita, The Trap Room

In this very recently opened and seemingly CWS-proof safe haven, you can gulp on Margaritas from a large tumbler glass, served from the tap. Rumor has it they use rul good ingredients in the mix (fresh lime juice), evidenced by the lip-pursing tartness and need for nothing more than a sliver of a fruit garnish. I can only imagine the baseball fans are perplexed by this highly stylized interior -- no, I didn't just imply sports fans are simple... did I? -- which is why this might be the only place in a mile radius of the stadium not six bodies deep right now. The vibe evokes Stephen Starr, which makes me all like, want to champion it and stuff. Check it out.

...

Lily's Dinner Party, The Berry & Rye

Read about it here, sucka.

...

Irish Coffee, O'leaver's Pub

File this one under "Don't remember -- found in phone so it must have happened."

Coming soon: Recently Eaten That Wasn't Fast Food

Tasty Pastry

noreply@blogger.com (some chick) — Mon, 06 May 2013 03:56:00 +0000

5423 Leavenworth Street
402.933.9392
Open Mon thru Sat 10am-2pm
http://tastypastryomaha.com

Tasty pastries, indeed

How I long for more places like the recently opened Tasty Pastry in Omaha. With my general aversion to cooking and disgust with brown-bagging it on a workday, I avoid starvation during daytime hours by frequenting places like this. There is nothing quite like gazing out the window, steaming bowl of scrumptious split pea soup in front of you, occasionally losing yourself in your Twitter feed while absentmindedly fashioning a spoon out of your hunk of bread. Three martini lunches are great, too, but I like my soup.

Spicy corn chowder with chicken ($5/bowl)

While not a full-service rest-runt, new sandwiches appear intermittently on the menu as they ease into their space. (Up until last year this was Come on into my Kitchen.) The chicken sandwich is fit for the finest: Lightly breaded chicken with the tang of garlic aioli, pickles, jalapeño, and crunchy slaw on an above-average ciabatta (?) bun.

Proprietor, chef, and baker Mary Dailey has a true knack for executing recipes that are not overly sweet, more reminiscent of Euro-style tortes and pastries than what the average 'Merkan thinks of cake. She's also more than happy to slice up a sample of anything you'd like. Try some chocolate ganache if you're in the market for a new addiction.

The only way you won't love Tasty Pastry is if you have a phobia of the 50+ female demographic, since they're strongly represented in the crowd there.

On a very unrelated note, I kind of wish the name didn't make me think of pasties — every time — but what can you do.

Chicken sandwich ($6)

Carrot cake

Behind the counter

Chowda

The Reader: Baxter's

noreply@blogger.com (some chick) — Sat, 04 May 2013 05:35:00 +0000

So, this week's Dish section in The Reader boasts a brilliantly written review of Baxter's in Benson. Pick up a copy, woudja?

Another option would be to read the Omaha World Herald review of the same place. The major difference between the two articles is that this one was not written by me.

If only we were always this excited about pizza here in Omaha!

Margherita slice from Baxter's

Bob's Grill & Cafe

noreply@blogger.com (some chick) — Thu, 28 Mar 2013 02:24:00 +0000

317 South 17th Street
402.922.2430
Open M-F 7am-2:30pm
bobsgrillandcafe.com

Omaha Beef ($5.39):
Sliced roast beef, cheddar, grilled onion, and steak sauce, which tasted suspiciously of barbecue.

Urban Omaha

While gnawing on the Omaha Beef sandwich at Bob's Grill & Cafe, comparisons to Arby's will be unavoidable. You might imagine the phrase "glorified Arby's." You can hardly wait to share this meaningful opinion with your dining partner, so much that you nearly choke on a slice of roast beef. Easy there, boy. Take a sip of iced tea from the styrofoam cup. Your dining partner will point out that Arby's is also pretty glorious. You'll agree, and continue munching thoughtfully, making the promise to yourself to stop trying to cover up your decades-long endearing relationship with fast food.

Indeed, the hastily piled slices of roast beef and the globular spots of half-melted cheddar will remind you of the Arby's classic. The onion bun seals the deal. If you're one of the lucky ones who spend your days in one of downtown Omaha's high-profile offices, it's unlikely you'll send your secretary all the way to Arby's anyway. Go instead to Bob's. If a salad is what you crave, they've got that covered. I enjoyed patting myself on the back so much for ordering a salad, that I figured I might as well reward myself by topping it with a couple of Buffalo chicken fingers. Aaaand, they've even got creepy artwork (see below). I tried to be a good fake journalist and call the restaurant to get the artist's name, but I couldn't reach Mr. Bob for comment.

The Bob's crew is fast, which could be a bad thing if standing in line is your only relief from the stiffness of your cubicle chair. And if you don't work in the area, this is still a great place to spend a leisurely lunch hour ~~gawking at weirdos~~ people watching through the ample front windows.

Am I supposed to know this iconic old man in a tutu?

Buffalo Chicken Salad with Ranch ($5.79):
The lighter choice.
It was freshly made as opposed to pulled out of a fridge,
but I'm still losing sleep at night over the waste of a giant plastic to go container.

Chicken Tortilla soup neither chicken-y nor tortilla-y.
Oh well.

The pastry case!

The French Bulldog

noreply@blogger.com (some chick) — Wed, 27 Mar 2013 03:28:00 +0000

5003 Underwood Avenue

402.505.4633

Mon thru Thurs 11a.m. - 11p.m., Fri and Sat 11a.m. - midnight

frenchbulldogomaha.com

Hey! I'm cool! I've eaten here, too!

Charcuterie plate

There's an article in which I ask Bryce from the Bulldog how to make bacon HERE.

Shuck's Fish House and Oyster Bar

noreply@blogger.com (some chick) — Tue, 26 Feb 2013 03:21:00 +0000

1911 Leavenworth Street
402.614.5544
Plus two other locations:
16901 Wright Plaza (Shops of Legacy)
1218 S. 119th Street (just south of Pacific St.)
Downtown location offers limited Bailey's brunch menu Sat and Sun 9-2
Open 7 days
http://absolutelyfresh.com

Crab Cake Sandwich ($10.99)

I'm bored. Bored of beef and beer. Does that mean I'm bored of life?

Instead of feeling down on myself, I went to Shuck's, the restaurant attached to the local respected seafood supplier Absolutely Fresh. The place has a decent happy hour, and on this particular afternoon a couple of older dudes were parked at the bar, wanly sipping on their Bud heavies. Maybe the atmosphere gets livelier as the night goes on. We had the pleasure of having the whole back dining room to ourselves, a stark contrast to the restaurant's always-packed predecessor before it moved to Council Bluffs, Dixie Quicks.

Shrimp Po' Boy ($10.99)

I'm enamored with the idea of a casual seafood place in Omaha. Here you can get your fish & chips, your crab cake sandwich, your shrimp po' boy, all guaranteed "absolutely fresh," and all priced agreeably. You can roll up your sleeves and get down on some oysters, dirtying up the butcher paper that covers each table. It's the kind of place that's a dime-a-dozen on the coasts, but a real treat for us in this landlocked neck of the woods. A lot of the dishes I've sampled have tasted fantastic, but some present some culinary question marks. The crab cake, for example, made one heck of a photogenic sandwich, but was missing something. More seasonings, perhaps? It doesn't really matter. Shucks isn't supposed to be perfect. It's a laid back seafood joint with a "Dirty South" theme, and on these boring, bleak, beef-less days, it gives me a reason to live.

Fried Calamari, and a view of the bar ($4 at happy hour).
This yummy snack is "breaded" with cornmeal and GLUTEN FREE.

Cup o' Louisiana Gumbo ($3.99)

Note: On weekend mornings, Shuck's Downtown offers some competition to the abhorred and adored 11-Worth Cafe a few blocks away by offering a limited brunch menu from their sister restaurant, Bailey's.

The Reader: Chat with Corner Creperie

noreply@blogger.com (some chick) — Thu, 31 Jan 2013 17:45:00 +0000

In case you missed last week's Reader article on NoDo's newest lunch addition (written by me), check it out HERE.

Cheese bacon apple crepe,
side salad with quark buttermilk dressing. ($7)
Much fancier than the Lean Cuisine
you're planning on microwaving in your office.

Originally published in The Reader, January 23, 2013:

Chat with Corner Creperie

Get your crepes at the corner of 24th and Chicago

BY RACHEL GRACE

There are a few places in town to order crepes, but none as dedicated to the French-style stuffed pancake as this brand new space near the Creighton campus. Over my caramel latte – crafted with house-made syrup and beans from Omaha roasters A Hill of Beans – I spoke with Head Chef Chase Grove and owners Didi and Derek Olsen for the scoop.

READ THE REST...

Corner Creperie is located at 343 N. 24^th Street at Chicago Street. Hours are Mon – Sat 10a.m – 10p.m. and Sun 8a.m. – 6p.m. Call 402.955.9577 for details.

Jim & Jennie's Greek Village

noreply@blogger.com (some chick) — Wed, 09 Jan 2013 03:49:00 +0000

3026 North 90th Street (just north of Maple Street)

402.571.2857

Mon - Thurs 11-9, Fri and Sat 11-10, closed Sun

jimandjennies.com

On this overcast day, the silly Flintstones-esque lettering drew me in.

I've had a tough time finding a blind-mowing dining experience lately. That is, until hunger struck in the middle of an afternoon "thrifting" (not the cool kind, the poor kind), and I found myself transported to the shores of Greece. Not really. But still, before I knew what was happening, I was deeply submerged in my blue vinyl booth, happily chowing down on some of the best darn spinach pie I've tasted since I worked at a Greek diner in Philly. The phyllo dough was nicely flaky, but just chewy enough to keep the whole thing held together. Darkly caramelized onions added flavor and texture, and it wasn't weighed down with too much feta cheese -- just the way I like it. Finally, something to salivate over.

Spanakopita appetizer ($3.25):
I may or may not have this as my iPhone wallpaper.

Dolmades appetizer ($4.99):
Ground beef and rice-stuffed grape leaves with creamy egg lemon sauce.

I exercised my timidness and ordered the sandwich special of the day, the gyro. The octopodi and pan-fried smelts will just have to wait 'til next time. Like the souvlaki sandwich, the gyro rested atop a piece of warm, delightfully pliable pita bread. This wasn't the puffy fake stuff you might find in the Baker's bread aisle. The gal I believe to be Mrs. Jennie herself, as she gracefully boxed up our scraps table-side, explained they get their bread from "a place in Chicago." Not bad, says I.

Gyro, complete with tzatziki sauce rich with dill, and house salad ($6.75 on Mondays).

The menu is more than fit for pescetarians, and even your vegetarian friend can tag along and get a Veggie Gyro. Winos will feel adventurous sipping on the full-bodied Kourtaki Retsina ($4.75/glass), which had a tangy, unfamiliar piney taste.

Jim and Jennie have been doing their thing since '85, and I hope they know how good they are at serving wonderfully rustic, traditional Greek cuisine. Even the way they dressed the wedge of iceberg in oil, vinegar, and a handful of dried oregano was somehow impressive. Rookies they are not; they've got the touch.

Souvlaki sandwich ($5.99):
Well-seasoned, marinated pork loin skewer grilled to a tender medium,
with pepper, onion, a chunk o' feta, a sad tomato slice,
a ramekin of velvety tzatziki and your customary kalamata olive.

Chinese Place in the Old Market

noreply@blogger.com (some chick) — Tue, 08 Jan 2013 04:55:00 +0000

UPDATE: IT'S GONE! CLOSED!

1215 Howard Street
402.991.9330
Mon - Thurs 11-9:30, Fri and Sat 11-10, closed Sun
houseofleeomaha.com

Ye Old Howard Street

Is this place called "House of Lee," or "California Bowl," or both? The website says the Old Market location is closed, so maybe my experience a few weeks ago was all a dream. A dream in which I patronize a dingy Chinese food diner and emerge feeling... satisfied.

I've passed this place a bunch of times and was sure it would absolutely, positively suck. There's nothing more I can really say. Thought it was gonna suck, and it was actually pretty good. Next.

Moo Goo Gai Pan ($6.25)


Lunch Special ($6.75): Mongolian Beef and Chicken with Broccoli

Egg Drop Soup (included with lunch)

If you haven't seen this TED talk on the origin of Americanized Chinese cuisine, there are worse ways you could spend 15 minutes: