Restaurant Review: Frontera Grill, Chicago, IL

    So it looks like I've neglected this blog--yet again--but I've been re-motivated by my pal Shanimal who just came out with a new blog last week.  Between Shan and my other high school pal Rachel, I've come up with some new ideas for posts, so hopefully this will last.

     As I'd promised in one of my last postings, I want to mix it up by reviewing new and Milwaukee-local restaurants.  I'll be using the following criteria to make my final judgement: atmosphere, service, and food (taste and presentation).  While I realize little old me--in my kitchen, in my head, in my garden--doesn't have much in the line of educated opines, I feel those are the most worthy criteria.  A complete flop on any one of the three is enough to keep me from ever revisiting a restaurant.

     We begin in Chicago, Illinois.  I realize this isn't exactly Milwaukee-local, but I want to start here because it was a special (birthday!) trip, it was a surprise, and it was overall outstanding.  Not to mention, Chicago is a quick train ride south of here--which makes the conductor the designated driver.  And oh, did we need one.  At Frontera Grill, we not only managed to ingest four cocktails apiece, we had four different plates of food.  Between two people.  No one else.  Hashtaggluttony.

     The squeeze and I are avid fans of Rick Bayless--the restaurant's super-star Top Chef master and owner--from his show "Mexico: One Plate at a Time" on PBS.  Obviously.  We all know I love Mexican cooking and cuisine.  In fact, once G-mac conceded that we were indeed training to Chicago, I guessed that we were going to Frontera Grill.  But, back to the food!  All my experience working at an authentic Mexican food cart, mimicking the recipes at home, and trying every different Mexican restaurant I can find was all not nearly enough to prepare me for what I encountered at Frontera.

     Let's start with our first round of drinks.  I'll be copying and pasting the ingredients straight from Bayless' website (how cool, hey?) into the captions:

Topolo Margarita & Rhubarb-Cassis Margarita

     Next up, our first appetizer:

Cacao Guacamole: Smoky morita chile, wood-grilled white onion, toasted cacao nibs, 58% El Rey chocolate bits, oregano, lime. Tortilla chips

     Might I mention that I'm a huge fan of the morita chile?  It's pretty much the entire reason (chocolate notwithstanding) we even ordered the guacamole.  I even buy/keep/prepare them for my own kitchen.  They're just the best combination of smoke and heat. 

     Then, our second round of drinks:

Mango Basil Mojito & Jamaican Sangria

     Followed by our second appetizer:

Frontera Ceviche: Hawaiian albacore, lime, tomatoes, olives, cilantro, & green chile on tostaditas. Tropical Tuna Cocktail:  Sashimi-grade Hawaiian bigeye tuna, tomatillo guacamole, honey Manila mango salsa.

Oysters: Shucked to order. Tomatillo-habanero "minoneta," smoky chipotle-garlic salsa & fresh-cut limes.

     And here is where I have to stop--these appetizers were flat out the best things I'd yet tasted.  The best things.  And we were only into the first part.  I preferred the albacore ceviche over the tuna cocktail--but I can't even tell you why.  All those great flavors of onion, cilantro, and lime coming together in the perfect combination, hitting all four spots on my palate.  The tuna cocktail was also excellent--sashimi grade tuna makes for an interesting combination with avocado; I couldn't tell the difference between the two.

     And onto our first course:

Old School Frontera Trio: Two pieces each: smoked chicken taquitos (sour cream, guacamole), Mexico City-style corn masa quesadillas (artisan cheese, epazote), ceviche fronterizo tostadas.

Then, our second course:

Big Wood-grilled Tacos al Carbon Trio: Grassfed skirt steak (roasted garlic, spices), Gunthorp chicken (tangy, garlicky), pork (pastor marinade, pineapple), roasted poblano rajas, guacamole, grilled knob onions, & guero chile

     And holy mackerel, was this ever worth the calories.  The skirt steak is about the most tender, juiciest, most flavorful steak you've ever had, the chicken was smoky and delightful, and pork was garlicky and spicy.  I can't think of anything else I like better in an entree option.  Which brings us finally, to dessert:

Oro Azul tequila anejo

     Neither of us had room for dessert, so we opted for a more enjoyable form: tequila.  I'm actually of the opinion that all desserts should come in alcohol form--but that's because I usually gorge myself on apps and entrees and leave no space.  Now, I've worked in restaurants pretty much my whole adolescent-to-adult life, and one of them was a Southwestern joint.  As a lifelong bartender, I'd up until this point, been of the opinion that any description, in a book, at bar, in a restaurant, from a sommelier, or WHOEVER, is a bunch of undetectable, arbitrary garbage.  That is, of course, until I had the Oro Azul.

     Every word in its description was present from bouquet to breadth.  I'm also a lifelong whiskey devotee; the tequila had been aged in old bourbon barrels, I tasted that.  There were notes of vanilla, I tasted that.  It was a light finish with minimal burn--all true!  I was beside myself.  I guess that's the difference between your run-of-the-mill restaurant and one that is chef-owned and managed.  I mean honestly, Rick Bayless knows his ish.  Every restauranteur should be forced to follow suit.

     This was the best dining experience I've come across since I started paying attention (somewhere after high school--during college?).  Our server, Maria, was attentive, knowledgeable, and fast.  She must've had ten tables, but she was sure to come by and check on us.  She was funny without being overbearing.  She was smart without being condescending.  She was fast without making us feel rushed. 

     The atmosphere was also incredible.  With Mexican, it's easy to go overboard.  You know what I mean, your standard two hundred Corona/Tecate/Modelo signs, eighty thousand silk flowers and cacti, thirty-four Día de los Muertos masks, and about twenty servers in cheesed-up ruffles.  Frontera Grill was devoid of all that clutter.  The paint scheme was relatively standard, and decor was apropos, and there weren't five thousand things jumping off the wall to get my attention.  No mariachi harassing birthday people, either.  

    Unfortunately, this sets the bar pretty high, but I'll be sure to bear that in mind upon my next review.  All in all, I give Frontera Grill five out of five stars *****.  I was thoroughly impressed and giddy.  I hope to have many great experiences when I undoubtedly return. 

Foodie Share Love

   

     Something I love best about social networking is "sharing."  Pictures, articles, videos, recipes--it's the best avenue to include people you love in on the things you love.  Since graduating college, becoming a foodie was an instant path for me.  Facebook (and now this blog) became a major source of sharing for me.  Although I had facebook in college, it wasn't until post-grad that I had the budget to be cooking the splendors I find.  It also appears to be true for so many of my friends, that I didn't even realize how many fellow foodies I had right in my inner circles.

     Because I've been posting my stuff on a regular, it's been easy to discover my fellow foodies, follow their ventures, and swap recipes.  My friend Amy, whom I met in 2007 in our first year in the Vagina Monologues cast, is a perfect example.  About a year ago I posted a recipe for Falafel with Avocado Spread.  Amy happened upon this recipe and was so utterly delighted by it, she decided to pay me back with the gift of her "Best Grilled Cheese in the World" recipe.  I am about to show you how sharing a recipe (aside from preparing such a recipe) can be one of the best gifts in the world.

     Amy's recipe was simple, savory, and delicious.  You will need:

     -an apple (I used a Granny Smith to contrast the sweet flavors)
     -apricot preserves
     -cheddar cheese
     -bread
     -butter

     Begin by thinly slicing the apple.  Bake at 400 degrees for 7 minutes.  Layer the bread with apricot preserves, cheddar, apples, more cheddar, top piece of bread.  Then butter each outside slice as you would any grilled cheese, and grill on medium-heat until crisp.  Flip, repeat.

   
     I also paired the sandwiches with a salad inspired by the same ingredients.  You will need:

     -3-4 leaves from a head of lettuce (leaf, romaine, iceberg--doesn't matter), shredded
     -about 1/2 c. leftover chunks from your apple
     -2-3 slices of onion
     -handful of almonds or some crunchy nut for texture, roughly chopped
     -1-2 T. apricot preserves
     -1-2 T. dijon mustard
     -glug of red wine vinegar
     -couple glugs of olive oil
     -s&p

   

     Salads are as easy as shred and whisk.  Whisk all those ingredients together and toss the salad components in it.  Should look as delectable as this:

     And it doesn't get any better than the ooey-gooey-meltiness of a homemade grilled cheese sammy.

The Prodigal Daughter Returns

     Hello, folks!  It is I, returned from a month-long absence of blogging.  In the past few weeks I have:

-failed to land a job
-failed to acquire more interviews
-had some pretty clumsy accidents (sunburn, black eye, etc.)

     However, I have succeeded in:

-weeding and planting the entirety of my vegetable garden
-giving my squeeze a great birthday party
-taking some great shots of my friends' beautiful newborn, Giana
-coming up with other things I want to blog about (all my first times in local restaurants!)

     See, the positives outweigh the negatives!

     In the spirit of summer officially landing its beautiful rump in Southeast Wisconsin, I embarked on making one of my favorite summertime treats: Bananas Foster Bread. 

     Allow me to preface this; I do not like baking.  I know many people who adore it, some of which really excel at it.  I am not in this group.  Putting me in the kitchen to bake is like inviting a natural disaster into your home.  It's a mess; there's debris everywhere, children are crying--really horrible stuff.  I cannot handle the multi-tasking.  "Where's the 1/4 c. measuring cup . . . I can't find the flour . . . Damnit, I forgot the salt!"  But for the Bananas Foster Bread, I think the ends justify the means.

     Anyway, as I mentioned, my squeeze's birthday was last week, and because we had a whole weekend of bad eating/drinking/playing around planned, our whole bag of bananas from the week's shopping sat untouched.  This was the perfect opportunity to go for banana bread, since I'm pretty sure over-ripe bananas were invented specifically for this purpose.

     One of the things I love best about this recipe from Cooking Light is its "adult twist"--aka, the boozy taste of rum in the bread and the frosting.  It adds that extra layer of flavor among the usual suspects of sweet, salty, banana-y.  Another thing I love, and this is usually to Cooking Light's credit (although, there are sometimes where it's like: "Um, no."), is their incorporation of healthier substitutes to old school recipes.  For example, this recipe calls for milled flaxseed and fat-free yogurt.  I have really no idea what those items take the place of, but they sound healthy, right?  (Sidenote: I've heard that using applesauce or canned pumpkin in place of butter in certain baking items like brownies, is a health-wise tip.)

     

      At this risk of a boring digression, there's something else I'd like to address here.  Do you ever find yourself frustrated when browsing recipes, and there's inconsistencies in ingredient amounts?  You all know I love my Cooking Light, but I do have one critique.  You could be reading two recipes on the exact same page of the magazine, and while one calls for half an onion, diced, the other calls for  1 1/2 c. sliced onion.  I realize that this can be due in part to the recipes having different authors with different styles and different requirements--I just remember being extremely frustrated with this in my earlier cooking days.  Like, can't they just list everything based on the item's size?!  How do I know when I'm at the grocery store if this red pepper is going to yield a full cup's worth or not?! 

     The best way I've come to combat this with is, if you're not baking, take Rachael Ray's advice and "eyeball it."  Seriously, just guess.  In the land of baking, precision is paramount.  If you're stir-frying, making a pizza, grilling a burger--guessing won't ruin your food.  This is something I believe I absorbed from my dad.  He used to say it a lot when I was a kid and worrying about messing stuff up.  And there was Myron with his soothing, "It's ok, Nicole, it doesn't matter."

     Alas, we are baking here.  So let me inform you: when the recipe calls for 1 1/2 c. mashed ripe banana, what they mean is 3-4 bananas.  Like much of cooking, this is something you can only learn from doing.  But, I want to spread the word of Mashed Bananas!  Let me lead you to the accurate amounts!  Go forth and be glad in it. 

 

Yeah, buddy.

Crabby Challenge

    Pun intended, there.  These crab cakes put me in a frustrated mood at first.  I followed a recipe from Cooking Light's April issue entitled Crab Cakes with Spicy Remoulade.  The recipe was part of a special "40 Fast and Easy Meals" feature, which is one of my favorite parts of the magazine.  And after a weekend of eating like crap (tailgate food, Mexican twice in one day, baked ham), we wanted to opt for two lighter/meatless meals this week.  However "fast" this recipe was, it definitely wasn't easy.

     That is, until I employed a little trick I learned from one of the restaurants I used to work in.  I should probably back up a bit and tell you that a few years ago, I attempted to make shrimp cakes.  I worked at a Southwestern restaurant when I first moved to Milwaukee and they had the tastiest appetizers--or "tapas," as we called them.  Tapas were the best part of the menu: shrimp cake sliders, seared scallops, grilled shrimp, fresh-made guac & salsa...the list went on.  It's definitely a penchant of mine to attempt to remake my favorite restaurant food at home.  I'm not usually good at it; the shrimp cakes were a perfect example.  Generally when you make "cakes" or meatballs of any kind, you use an egg to sort of glue things together.  Not only did I accidentally omit the egg, I forgot to pop the mixture in the fridge so that it'd be easier to mold.  That night's feasting ended in sauteed shrimp crumbles.

     There was one thing I'd seen the cooks doing, however,  and it's the trick I'm going to strongly advise you to employ.  Take any jar lid (even your mayo lid would work here), place a sheet of plastic wrap inside it, and then pack your crab cake mixture in it.  This compacts your mixture into a tightly, evenly-formed patty that will not only hold together, but will cook evenly as well.  The plastic wrap ensures that nothing gets stuck inside the lid.  It'll look something like this:
 

   
     However, before I remembered this trick, I spent about 5 minutes trying to keep the first patty (and subsequently, my spirits) from crumbling and falling apart--and I even remembered the egg this time.  So, fear not, you lovers of the homemade crab cake!  I urge you to give this a shot.  Here's more aptly-helpful photographic evidence:

Be sure to flip it upside down in order to remove your cake.

 

And rather than dredge in panko, I just held each patty and gave each side a little dusting, pressing the crumbs in to finish.

Dust away.

As you can see, even with this little trick, it's not a perfect enterprise.

This was also my first experience with homemade remoulade!  You won't be surprised to hear that I forgot to add the ground red pepper.  But for those of you with milder palates, rest assured, it's still tasty without!

Pre-fry.

Post-fry.  Not bad, eh?

 

Rounds out a pretty delicious meal!  Serving size is two cakes--but that's a little too small of a meal for me.  Three cakes was still less than 500 calories.  Also, because multi-tasking in the kitchen isn't my best modus operandi, I just made up a "salad" of arugula, red onion, s&p, and lemon juice, then garnished with some fresh basil from my cheater garden.  

Tilling Your Plot

     Without the candy coating: gardening is a shitload of work.  I mean, really.  This stuff's not for sissies.  You think your old gardening gran is so meek and fragile, but she's a badass.  There's so much physical labor involved that, according to my diet tracker, gardening burns almost 300 calories an hour.  Shoveling and heaving and pulling--somehow even my hamstrings were sore after last weekend's endeavors?

     Allow me to set the scene for you.  The entire area of the garden was overgrown with chest-high weeds.  Abby Hoffman could've hidden in there.  Step one: bring out the weed-whacker.  And don't forget to use the strongest plastic ties you can find.

     Upon felling the forestry and examining its floor, we realized we had to dig up all the roots and top level grass that the weed whacker couldn't tackle.  Step two: grab a shovel.  Or two.  And volunteers, if you can.

     After two hours of over-turning soil, shovelful by shovelful, we re-examined and realized we needed something that required less effort and could produce maximal results.  Preferably something motorized.  Step three: Call Home Depot and rent a rototiller.  I cannot emphasize the importance of this enough.  It took us two hours to dig up one tenth of the garden.  It took us half as much to till the entire plot after acquiring our rental.

    Step four: call your dad.  When I called mine, old My-Guy informed me, to my dismay, that we have to pick out all the roots we dug up.   Step four is still in-process.  The most we've managed to do is rake out the stuff on top of the soil.  Re-implement step two.  If you don't, you're putting your plants/seeds into a terror zone.  Any leftover roots or weeds will strangle and kill anything you attempt to grow.

     I'll be keeping you posted.

I have no idea how large in numerical area our plot is, but it's approximately 12 hours+hand blisters+sore muscles big.

The depth perception in this photo doesn't do it justice, but there were two HUGE weed systems--like, larger than basketballs--rooted here.  It took us an hour to dig each out.

We also spent time mulching around the trees in our yard.

This is our plan for 2012 plant & harvest.  Because we both grew up on this staple, we're going to be planting raspberry bushes as well.

I refer to this little joy as my "cheater garden."  It's called an Aerogarden and requires almost zero effort beyond refilling the water trough, adding nutrient packets, and minimal pruning.  Here we have monstrous cilantro and basil plants, and a growing assortment of thyme, oregano, and parsley.

    

Can anyone (mom?) identify this flower bush?  It just started blooming like crazy once we got all the warm weather two weeks ago.

It also attracts tens of bees, which provide a soothing hum in our backyard.

Tuscan Bean & Kale Soup

     This was an interesting enterprise.  After I wrote about the beautiful weather we were having, April came to its senses and grew cold and rainy.  This is fine with me, since I'd rather not rush the spring.  Sure, I love warm weather, but I also appreciate seasonal changes.  So there's no snow, but there's no consistent temperature either.  This makes for some extra time for hearty food endeavors like soups, casseroles, and whatever else is blasphemous on the summer palate.  I found this recipe in Cooking Light: Tuscan Bean Soup.  The original recipe calls for escarole, but I find that any one dark, leafy green is an ample substitute for any other.

Prep pile.

Stirring in the thyme & parmesan rind.

Delights.

Kale is becoming a staple around here--delicious in soups, stir-fries, and on their own as chips.

As it turns out, the parmesan rind should either be harder or older.  Mine melted, but the soup was still insanely tasty: that perfect combination of flavorful, not-too-creamy, & not-too-salty.

Something sacred: breaking bread.

Dinner is served.

Buon appetito!

That's one spicy meatball!

  

...but only because I added a lot of crushed red pepper.  I'm telling you, it's probably in my top five spices.  Followed by chipotle pepper, salt, garlic, and thyme.  What are yours?

     I followed this recipe from Cooking Light entitled Spaghetti with Turkey Meatballs.  This was about the easiest thing in the world.  Boil pasta, chop onions, saute with (jarred) red sauce, brown meatballs, done.

     Well, actually, it was a little more than that, there's some combining and a little prep work involved, but this was as close to a 30-minute meal as I've ever come--save microwaving anything.  I apologize for the lack of photos, this recipe breezes by just that fast.  The trick to these meatballs being so dang flavorful is that they're made with Italian turkey sausage, rather than plain old ground whatever.  I, of course, jazzed it up with about 1/4 tsp crushed red pepper.

     So after you form the meatballs, you brown them on all sides, and remove from the pan.  Then in go the onions and garlic, followed by the jarred sauce (I like Ragu brand, garlic, onion, and olive oil flavor).  Then you put the meatballs back in to finish cooking and boil your pasta.  The whole thing gets plated less than 10 minutes later.  Garnish with grated parmesan and torn basil leaves.  Here's a close up in case your salivary glands need some work: