‘Travel’
On the way to the Sahara Desert, we stopped at a place called Restaurant Inass in Tinghir. Despite the name of the place, I assumed the was served in the mouth as opposed to…well…the name of the place. The restaurant had a deep back outdoor area and we found ourselves a seat. And before our meal came out, we were brought a nice little dish of noodles with nuts, cinnamon and sugar. But that’s not all.
What’s chwarma? Some might say it’s simply how you spell schwarma in Morocco. At least that’s what I thought when we stopped at Cafe Restaurant L’Etoile in the Djemaa Al Fnaa (Big Square) of Marrakesh’s Medina. We kind of stopped there on a whim considering every other place we had been to was a success so far, and I proceeded to order a Chwarma Sandwich with a side of frites.
In a land of perpetual drought (Arizona), there is a place that dares put cucumber slices in its water, thus ruining its precious resource. That place is O.H.S.O. in Arcadia, Scottsdale and while scholars maintain that the meaning behind O.H.S.O. was lost thousands of years ago, today it means a few things. One is biking, another is dogs, yet another is brewery and finally it also represents brunch.
I’m not sure any first-time trip to Philly is worthwhile without a trip to Pat’s and Geno’s. Yes, I realize that they probably attract more tourists than locals, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they are bad. Yes, I also realize that this wasn’t my first trip to Philly, but the only other time I set foot in the city was long before I became a meat blogger and I was snowed in the whole time anyway. So, yeah, I feel confident in saying it wasn’t worthwhile. I began my taste test with Geno’s for no other reason aside from that spot being where my taxi dropped me off.
What would you do if you had a few drinks and found yourself face-to-face with a menu item filled with steak and poutine for only $19.99? If you’re anything like me, you order the crap out of it. This lovely scenario is exactly what happened when I found myself at Rohrbach Brewing Company in the Gates neighborhood of Rochester. Of course, I had already enjoyed some of their beers, including their delectable Scotch Ale.
No trip to Canada is complete without at least one stop for poutine. Yes, even outside of the French side of Canada. The internet told me that Poutini’s in West Queen Street West had some of the best in town and I was eager to see if they could live up to the lofty expectations. Like other poutineriess, it had a few different options, but I was most intrigued by their Layered Poutine. This included an extra layer of cheese in the middle, and as much as I like bacon and other such things, this seemed best.
After quite the kayak journey down the Huron River, I found myself in Milford, Michigan seeking food. Fortunately, I was with family that brought me to Coratti’s on Main. Having had Italian for dinner the night before, I was not the most excited, but Coratti’s was definitely different from what I had just eaten. Instead of a ristorante, it was more of a cafe, with lighter fare waiting to make its way into my stomach.
You can get Italian food anywhere, so on the many occasions that I have returned to my homeland of Michigan since moving away one fateful day in 2007, I have not felt a drive to get to Antonio’s in Farmington Hills. After making a trip back there, I now realize this has been a mistake. After all, Antonio’s was the site of my college graduation lunch. Upon arrival, I could almost taste their amazing bread, which was good because it came out quickly and I devoured it like a fiend.
Over in Tyson’s Corner, Virginia is a restaurant that loves to rhyme. It’s called Chef Geoff’s and it’s not the only one. In fact, there seem to be Chef Geoffs’ all around the DC area. This Chef Geoff’s had an interesting menu ranging from Fish Tacos to Madras Curry Chicken. And while this may seem like a huge range, it wasn’t such a big menu that it still felt somewhat focused. So, while deciding, I had myself a pint of CG (Chef Geoff’s) Northwest Ale, which is brewed locally just for Geoff and his collection of rhyming restaurants.
A quick look at a map may make you think that Indianapolis is a part of The North. You know, the part of the country that won the Civil War. But just a weekend in the city made me think otherwise. When we went to restaurants, we were lambasted for wearing Michigan shirts, because everyone (even the locals) seemed to be Kentucky fans. Yet, there are benefits to The South. Like BBQ. And Indianapolis had a spot called Squealers Barbeque that I just had to try.