Have iPhone, Will Travel: East End Eatery

East End Eatery is an absolute neighborhood gem - thanks to a couple of sweet apps on the iPhone as we passed through Gainesville, we got a taste too.

Last week, we set off on our little vacation-within-a-vacation, driving from Tallahassee to Orlando to overwhelm the kids with the sensory overload that is Disney. Our food in Orlando was decidedly third-rate (with the exception of a cute little breakfast place on the last day). Our lunch on the way there however, at a little out of the way spot in East Gainesville, rocked.



East End Eatery on approach is as plain as they come - a little cinder-block building with a microscopic parking lot, tucked in an out-of-the-way corner of Gainesville.

The minute you walk in the door, however, all that changes. Every detail here, and there are a lot of details, glows with the love and attention its owners have lavished on it. The restaurant is split up into 3 small sections - each full of art and a nice arrangement of light-wood Ikea tables and powder blue chairs. The light pours in from storefront windows. There is a huge and gorgeous play area full of books and a complete toy kitchen for kiddos.


The menu is simple - either brunch or lunch depending on if you're there on weekday or a weekend. I was there on a Sunday, and the menu was half a small page of pancakes, French Toast, and various configurations of eggs and toast.

I had the Eggs Benedict; as a family, we managed a taste of just about everything. And everything was simply on point. Tracy's strawberry pancakes, the daily special, were thin and slightly crisp, beyond delicious. They were the opposite of the dry spongy plate-filling diner standard, and tasted completely and perfectly home made. My dish came adorned with one of the lightest, freshest hollandaise sauces I've ever had - distinctly lemony and a perfect match for the poached eggs and crispy English Muffins. Poached eggs and English Muffins are of, course, par for the course for Eggs Bendict, but these were unusually fresh, unusually tasty. The sausage was flavorful in hand-formed patties, the bacon crisp, the coffee lovely and french pressed. As with the physical space, the care and attention that is poured into this food comes through shining.


I've been coming to Florida for close to 5 years now, just about every week. And no breakfast I've had in that time could hold a torch to this place. Truly fantastic.

A Burger with a Side of Streetcar at The Camellia Grill

Camellia Grill is as old school as they come - a twisty formica counter in front of an open kitchen slinging excellent diner standards.

On the evening of our whirlwind New Orleans food Odyssey, our kids were getting a little tired of unfamiliar foods, and Tracy suggested we check out Camellia Grill for some tried and true diner basics.

Normally the getting there doesn't merit a mention, but this is an exception. To get to Camellia Grill from the French Quarter, you walk a block or two down Canal Street to the first stop on the St. Charles Streetcar line. You pay your $1.25, choose one of the smooth old wooden seats, settle in next to the breezy, wide open windows, and off you go. It's about a 30 minute ride through downtown, past the stunning Victorian mansions in the Garden District, between Tulane and Audbon park, and around the Carrollton curve to a stop under giant trees, right across the street from Camellia. As good as it was, this was not the best burger I've ever had. But it was the best transportation I can remember.

The second thing to mention here is the absolutely out-of-hand gorgeous white Greek-revival building, columns and all, that houses Camellia. It's a lovely structure, looking far larger than the tiny little table-less restaurant you encounter walking in the front door. To eat at Camellia is to eat at one of the 22 seats at the bar, which bends around the kitchen in a sort of squared-off W formation. This is redefinition of open kitchen - this is kitchen as entertainment.

Tracy and the girls all got waffles. Tasty, but nothing too special, these were old-style relatively flat waffles vs. the current Belgian waffle standard. Not to be a sucker for trends, but I prefer the crisp lightness of a good high Belgian waffle, to the sort of pancakey variety served here. Still, it was tasty, and along side the waffle came a giant hopper of melted butter and another of syrup. Melted butter rights most wrongs, and it was a nice touch here.


The burger was better - fresh toppings, and a loose, tender burger on fluffy white hamburger bun. Nothing fancy or trendy here either - just lettuce, tomato, grilled onions and pickles, and a nicely juicy thin hamburger patty cooked up under a press on the flat top.

Had Camellia been a roadside stop in some random strip mall, lined with booths and faux woodgrain tables, serving exactly the same food, it'd be nice little neighborhood joint, no different than thousands like it. But the experience of this place, the history, the streetcar, the big columns, the mushroom barstools, make this place one-of-a-kind and totally extraordinary.

Croissant D'or - Striking Gold in the French Quarter

Second stop on our 24 hours of New Orleans food heaven was Croissant D'or Patisserie.

After following recommendations to Angelo Brocato the night before, we eagerly followed another recommendation for breakfast, about 10 blocks from our hotel. Awesomeness was apparent on entry: simple glass case, stuffed with cookies, quiches, and croissants and a gorgeous tiled seating area opening to a lush green back patio.

From the street, it's a bit hidden, but inside, this place is totally the bomb. In addition to the classic ornate tiling, there's funky local art perched everywhere on the walls and a giant internally lit stained glass mural over the back wall, and fabulous sky blue window bays.


We arrived in style - my little one's first cab ride! - and each chose a different pastry. My family is totally getting used to the Grubbus thing, and happily swapped tastes of each other's eats. Together, we had a cherry danish, and raspberry, almond, and chocolate croissants. The fruit items were good, but the class action was the almond and chocolate. Both of these really let the flaky, buttery, light texture of the croissant shine, and the depth of the chocolate and almond flavors was a perfect compliment to the subtle sweetness of the pastry. The danish and raspberry croissant, while also awesome, played a bit too much to the sweet side, and lacked the complexity of the others. I am in awe of croissants in general - easy in concept, these take a lot of effort to make well - and I was positively blown away by the impossible fineness of these in particular.


I had a cup of good dark coffee, and resisted (barely) the temptation to go back up and get another almond croissant all for myself.

This is one of the places that serves as proof that somewhere underneath the surface of the French Quarter, there are actually people that live here. I think that's one of the things that makes New Orleans so appealing - it's full of tourists, but it's not designed around them. Locals sustain these amazing places - not full of glitz, not obvious from across the street, but temples to good food, inhabited by people who live here, people who once lived here, and people lucky enough to have been tipped off.

Angelo Brocato ice cream awesomeness

Angelo Brocato is home to the best strawberry ice cream I've ever had.

When you ask a native New Orleanian for food recommendations, expect a long list. This is a city where culture is defined, in a not-incidental way, by food. It's not just the gumbo or po'boys. It's the attention to taste in everything.

Angelo Brocato is a prime example. Open a good solid century before the current gelato fad took hold, this place is a frilly, adoring temple to Italian sweets. Technically, this is the "new" location, which means the location that opened in late 1905, versus the store in the French Quarter, now Croissant D'or, that opened in early 1905.

It's a large place, maybe 20 small tables, and it was pleasantly packed when we arrived around 7 in the evening. Along one wall is a long glass case, filled with Italian pastries on one side, and about 2 dozen ices, ice creams and gelatos on the other. The frozen side is mostly made up of traditional Italian flavors - chestnut, amaretto, moka, spumoni, pistacio - but they've also got the classic American standbys. The pastries looked amazing, but I was there on a recommendation, and the recommendation was for Strawberry ice cream. A small is two scoops - for me, sweet cream on the bottom, stawberry on the top.

It was heavenly.

On the ice cream continuum there's Amy's Ice Cream on one side; so rich it's almost gummy. And there's places like Teo on the other - new school gelato, flavorful but almost grainy. Everywhere else is somewhere between - playing with temperature, ingredients, agitation, and presentation to try to hit the right combination of creamy lightness; the right balance between lush and refreshing. Trying to extract and incorporate the essence of something like strawberries makes it even harder. Certainly personal preference plays a part at finding the optimal point on that scale, but to me, Brocato's hit it - finding the extra depth that's missing from most Gelato and the silky texture that's missing from most ice creams. The strawberry was subtle, worked in as a flavor not as chunks of fruit, and it came through spectacularly.

I ate a lot of good food in our one-day stop in New Orleans. This was up there with the best.

Tila's: Odd Marriage of Quirk and Glitz

Tila's is a beautiful place, and while there is clearly a lot of heart here, the experience was not universally lovely.


Last year, the Austin to Florida family road trip set a new bar for food wretchedness. A combination of my misplaced faith in local flavor and towns we knew nothing about resulted in some truly abysmal meals ("At least it's not Madison's" is a catch phrase my kids now use to make the best of something the find deeply unappetizing)


So this year, on the road, and now iPhone-equipped, we vowed to do it a little differently.

Payoff started at the compact and pretty Tila's in Houston. We arrived early for lunch, and had the place nearly to ourselves. It's a stunning restaurant, somehow managing combine the kitsch of Chuy's with the soft light and elegance of Cafe Josie. Impressive right off the bat.


We ordered on the safe side of things, flautas for the kids, chicken mole for me, shredded chicken deconstucted tacos for Tracy. Universally, while the presentation for each was well done, the food lacked spark. Maybe safe wasn't the way to go here - they had some pretty innovative-sounding dishes and specials that may have been a better bet.


My mole, for instance, was overpowered with something that tasted a lot like chipotle. It wasn't a bad flavor, but it missed the point - mole has a zillion ingredients because you're supposed to *taste* all of them. In this case, the smoky kick of that one pepper just drowned out the supporting cast. And while the flavor on the flautas was excellent, the shredded beef was dry and stringy.

It's worth noting that Tila's far surpassed standard road trip fare, only failing to meet the high expectations set for it by Facebook friends and social media foodies. Maybe not destined for a return trip when we drive back in late July, but I can see giving it another shot one day to see if there's something more hiding there.

Trying to Raise the Coffee Bar at Houndstooth

With some pretty strong recommendations coming from the good folks out at Cuvee, Houndstooth entered my list of must-try-places in Austin at number one. This isn't just coffee: this is a major entrant into the Austin espresso scene.

JP's blazed a trail. Caffe Medici made it real. Progress made it trendy. Once Over made it cheap. Frank made it with a hot dog on the side. And now Houndstooth is making a go at raising the bar for class A coffee in Austin just a little bit higher.

In Houndstooth's favor: super tasty espresso. There's a lot of factors here: clearly the barista knew exactly what she was doing; the beans came from premier roaster Counter Culture in North Carolina (more about that in a second); and the espresso machine is without equal, anywhere.


Houndstooth always offers two different beans - alternating between top notch suppliers Cuvee, Intelligentsia, and Counter Culture - and between several different blends and single origins from each. It's a lot of different combinations. My Machiatto was tasty, sure, but I couldn't help wondering if it was just the luck of the draw. The trick here is in the temperature of the water and the fineness of the grind. If you're using a different bean, it takes a while to get all the variables just where you want them. Even with everything set, you have to make small adjustments for humidity, for temperature and for the age of the bean. A place like Medici works with the same blend all the time. So those guys know that coffee like they know the block they grew up on. But Houndstooth is always bopping around between coffees. How do they get that last bit dialed in? How many shots does it take them to make the appropriate adjustments? I'm not sure. I had a good shot, but I don't trust that it'd *always* be a good shot.


Not that I can't see the reasoning here - changes make it more fun for customers and for baristas. And the outcome for me was delicious - a single-origin Brazilian, which made up for a lack of complexity with a richness and silkiness that bordered on chocolaty.

There's other perks to the place: it's situated in one of the trendiest strip malls I've ever seen, on North Lamar just north of Central Market, anchored by the soon-to-open Uchiko. It's got nice light. The bar is totally slick. They serve wine. But there's downsides too: as trendy as it gets, it's still a strip mall - no where near the charm of Medici or JP's. And while the place is cute, there's a funny mismatch between the customer space, which feels a bit like it was furnished at an Ikea clearance sale; and the barista space, which is 100% custom cabinet gorgeous.

In a happily crowded coffee town, Houndstooth is definitely a player, and it's only been open a few weeks. For now, while I see the appeal, and while I'm definitely going to make another visit, it's not quite enough for me to adopt a new regular coffee joint.

Olympic Provisions: Hipster Meat

In rainy, green, deliciously awesome Portland this week. Here for work with a pretty packed schedule, but managed to meet an old high school friend for lunch at local charcuterie Olympic Provisions.

Olympic is tucked in between warehouses and alleys on the city's South East side, and the place feels at home in its industrial roots. The windows are tall and paned with old glass, the floor and tables are well worn wood, the walls are white porcelain subway tiles; everything looks sort of like a Saveur photo spread. This is a good thing.


The lunch menu is divided into a couple options each of meats, vegetables, sandwiches, and pastries. It's a clever menu, simple but luxe, and its full of clues that this is a place serious about its meat. OK. The large sign that says MEAT in red light bulbs is also a clue. It's also a place serious about its coffee (Stumptown) and its pickles (Heaven).

Item one on the menu is the meat sampler, including a bunch of different cured meats. Our waitress identified them in a breezy single flow of multi-syllabic Italian of which I remember very little. Not knowing the names didn't slow me down much: the meat identified as Chorizo was amazing - a roller coaster of flavor starting sweet and ending a very long time later with a spicy little kick. There was an amazing something with pistachios - a sort of loosely formed sausage. And, on the other end of the spectrum, a smooth pork pate. The meats ranged in complexity, and were all pretty extraordinary. Except the pate. I thought the pate was kind of weak.


As good as the meat was, it was the pickles that stole the show. I don't know what they do exactly to make pickles like this: pickled onions, pickled little bitty cucumbers, pickled rhubarb. This was some of the best, most elegant pickling I've ever tasted, each item spiced to bring out its unique characteristics and flavors - a little sweet on the rhubarb, a mild tang on the onion.

When you're this much of a foodie temple, you set yourself up with some pretty steep expectations - and in general Olympic delivered. Maybe not perfect - a little more attention on the bread would have been good, a little more spice in the mustard welcome - but in all, pretty freakishly amazing.