Noshing Out – Best.Salad.Bar.Ever.

The elevator dings open to the 12^th floor of Macy’s in downtown Minneapolis. Down the hall, I can hear the clatter of plates and utensils and the dull roar of a crowded room, full of conversations. Christmas carols tinkled above the din from a live pianist. After a short wait, my former roommate and I are escorted through the room to our small table. Colored in white, gray, and silver, the room has a high ceiling and bright, wide windows. Despite the cloudy day, the entire room feels well illuminated. 

We equip ourselves with white plates and black trays and make our way down the line.

Every container is surrounded by ice and is refilled quickly by the white-clad staff. The first thing that struck me about the salad bar was the lettuce varieties. Romaine, field greens, and arugula were options, but iceberg was absent. Following was the standard slew of toppings from shredded carrots to beets, but after I noticed the plethora of dressings. Over a dozen sat in tall plastic bottles, but there was also a tray filled with a house made blue cheese, complete with actual chunks that melted into the creaminess of the rest of the dressing, a smooth counterpoint to the various crunches from that salad.

The options continued with an assortment of meats. Shredded chicken, ham, and mini shrimp were added to my now loaded plate. Salad ended with pre-made salads with noodles, quinoa, and potatoes, but there was still five separate soups to try before checkout. This entire array set’s one back less than $10, and you can go back and refill to your heart’s content.

With a selection that large, it’s easy to overfill the plate, creating a panoply of flavors that no longer harmonize. My personal favorite combination had a base or arugula and field greens, providing a slightly bitter under note. Topping the greens were beets and dried cranberries for sweet and tart components, shredded chicken for body, chopped almonds for a different kind of crunch, and the aforementioned blue cheese dressing for a creamy and slightly pungent finish. The butternut squash bisque I preferred was a smooth and buttery (without being heavy from cream) pair to the plate.

However, the purpose of the lunch was not to stuff my face with as much vegetation as I could, but rather to catch up with an old friend, which we did, sharing stories and adventures from our lives over the past six months since we last met. Were I a downtown Minneapolis worker, Macy’s Skyroom would certainly be a go-to spot.

Graham’s Gastronomy – The holiday spirit wrapped in a corn husk

The holidays mean many things to many people. However, I believe that regardless of faith (or lack thereof), ethnicity, or background, everyone enjoys getting together with friends (and for some, family) over good food. Last Sunday was the annual tamale making party hosted by a dear friend of mine. Food forward friends came, arms full of margarita making concoctions and sumptuous sides.

The real work had been done in advance by the hostess, a pulled pork in chile sauce ready to go. Having dawned her apron and rolled up her sleeves, she dove in, elbows deep into corn masa. This particular variety is made from hominy, mixed with an alkaline solution, cooked, steeped, washed, then ground (thanks Wikipedia). I poured the brown/red juices into the white/yellow meal, gradually thinning the paste. With a hypnotic repetition of mixing, the masa took on a pinkish hue and a smoky smell. With a taste, a satisfied chef summoned the cooking compatriots, lining us up to fill the husks.

Spatulas slapped masa into the dried corn case, spreading the paste to the edges, leaving enough room for the fold. These were handed down to the fillers, adding a dollop of the chile infused pork, another pass added an olive, and the final station folded and placed the resulting packing into the steamer basket. The whole while, margaritas and wine glasses were refilled, jokes were made, and artificially heavy critiques on “proper form” were given.

Like a Japanese rice ball, we unwrapped the leaves, steam wafting up from the now cooked tamales. The aroma of corn mixed  with the spices from the peppers and the robustness of the meat. The masa had firmed, but was still soft, providing a creamy background that matched the shredded pork.

The comradery continued, even into cleanup as guests left with a few extra tamales of their own, another part of our gracious hostesses’ tradition. 

Graham’s Gastronomy - Love is Breakfast

It starts as a low-volume chime. As the seconds pass, the beeping becomes higher pitched, louder, and more obtrusive. Roused from sleep, I lean over, half blindly groping for my phone to dismiss the alarm. “Time to make the donuts…” my girlfriend whispers in my ear, kissing me good morning. That’s funny, because unlike me, she doesn’t wake up hungry.

The other day, we attended a party bringing a mulled cider. We juice the apples ourselves, autumn’s bounty still filling my fruit bowl. Auburn liquid removed, the catch basin of my juicer was filled with the pulp of what until recently where red, green, and yellow orbs of crunchy goodness. To many, this is trash, to some, compost, to others, dog food, to me, another ingredient.

Moist mash plopped into the mixing bowl with a wet splat. An egg provided moisture and with flour, became a binder, oatmeal for body and heartiness, a pinch of salt to heighten the flavor, and just a splash of milk to bring the dough together. The evenly spread mixture transformed from dough to confection under the 350⁰ heat coils of my toaster oven. A tiny slice popped into my mouth, the oatmeal had toasted nicely, but without the juice, the apple flavor wasn’t as pronounced. Cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, brown sugar, these spices are typically used with apple concoctions, but with the seasonal fare, my palate is growing weary of that combination. A remembrance of The Big E brought inspiration. A layer of apple butter provided the intense fruit flavor, while thin slices of reserve cheddar brought sharpness, salt, and creamy tastes. Back under the broiler, the cheese melted and toasted, sealing the spread adding another flavor of blistered nuttiness.

Wrapped in foil, my “NutriGraham” bar slid into her backpack, another culinary token of my affection.