Ya Gotta Do What Ya Gotta Do

I kind of love how at this bizarre moment in time when we’re all at each other’s throats, we’ve also managed to somehow collectively give ourselves permission to do basically whatever we want.

Subsist solely on Hot Pockets and sliders? Self-care, dude. Wear nothing but pajama pants for seven straight months? Completely practical. Kids are playing video games eight hours a day? They’re alive and you’re a hero. Commence day drinking at 11 AM? Hey, man, whatever gets you through it.

This is not a complaint! I kind of hope this attitude spills over a little into the post-pandemic world (within reason, of course). We always do whatever we need to do to get by, but I kind of love that we've suddenly discovered the ability to be open and vulnerable about it. I see no reason why that should change.

Still, for a whole lot of people, “ya gotta do what ya gotta do” is less a matter of sanity and more a matter of survival these days.

Here’s a good opportunity to help out and eat well at the same time:

Driveway Tacos

Hat tip to David Tyda for sending up a flare on this place, a taco stand for our times.

Michael Winneker is an accomplished resort chef, most recently calling the shots at Artizen until he was furloughed in March, but he might want to consider switching to kick ass tacos permanently when things settle down. On a whim and looking to bring in a little income, he set up a griddle and a couple of prep tables in his South Scottsdale driveway, he’s been taking orders two nights a week, and honestly, I’m having a hard time coming up with anyplace I’d rather go for tacos in this part of town.

This is not a formal endeavor. You drop him an email (mikewinn87@gmail.com) to get on the list, and twice a week he sends out a menu. There’s always a taco — maybe two — and another non-taco item, plus a couple of sides or bake sale desserts, like charro beans or marshmallow treats made with a mix of cereal and potato chips. You email back your order the night before, and then swing by on Tuesday or Saturday evening to pay him via cash or Venmo and walk off with the goods.

The goods are great.

Pork adobada taco with jalapeño salsa and marinated onions  |  Cheese, potato and poblano taco with potato puree, roasted poblanos, Jack and mozzarella cheese and tomatillo salsa  |  Juicy beef taco

I’ve been twice now, and it’s in danger of becoming a regular stop. I’ve nabbed three tacos so far — some gorgeous braised beef cheeks in a ruddy consommé, sizzled chunks of pork adovada with pickled onions, and a smooshy blend of cheese and pureed potatoes spiked with roasted poblanos. I might even dig the non-tacos more. Nobody will mistake the veggie quesadilla for Mexican, precisely, but that’s a damn fine blend of roasted peppers, squash and cactus, gooey with Oaxaca cheese, griddled to a nice, blistered crisp and topped with fine iceberg chiffonade (band name), pickled Fresnos and a searing hot chile crema. Another visit, I nabbed a grilled cheese on thick Texas toast, layered with pork chorizo and smeared with sweet onion jam. I think my kid was ready to fight me over it.

Clockwise from top left: Loaded vegetable quesadilla with nopales, yam, squash, roasted peppers, leeks, Oaxaca and Jack cheese, shredded lettuce, chipotle crema, salsa verde and pickled Fresnos  |  Pork chorizo grilled cheese with chipotle aioli, onion jam, Jack & mozzarella cheese and escabeche  |  Michael Winneker cooking

There’s nothing high falutin’ here. He’s pulling tortillas out of a retail bag, the propane grill is nuzzled up to a slightly dinged-up vintage Caddy parked in the driveway, and he’ll casually chat you up while he’s working the griddle. But the ingredients are good, the flavors are big and the technique is crisp. This is way better than most brick and mortar joints, and you’d be helping out one of the many, many restaurant veterans out there who deserve so much better.

Living To See 50

Responding to the contents of Vol. III, a reader writes:

I’m so busted.

That quote in isolation might lend the wrong impression — this was an entirely supportive and good-natured exchange (thank you!). And she’s absolutely correct. But in my defense, it’s a little more nuanced than that. Yes, all of these things are true:

• One of the reasons I left The Republic is because it is really difficult bordering on impossible to be remotely healthy while working as a dining critic. Certainly not the way I insist on doing it, anyway.
• While I am a staunch believer that everything is fine in moderation, subsisting on steak and fried chicken would maaaaaaaaybe** not be doing my longevity any favors.
• My writing as of late — and to be fair, pretty much always — tends to be focused on the more... *ahem*... hefty dining options out there.

But this gets into a bit of an esoteric subject that’s always interested me — the gap between the types of foods typically covered by food media and the types of foods we do or should be eating on a regular basis.

Yogurt and Aleppo pepper-marinated chicken kebabs with grilled vegetables

First and foremost, I am not the food police. That is the LAST thing I have ever wanted to be. We’re all grown-ups here and we can all make our own choices. I like to think that if I write about a butter bacon burger and chili cheese fries, it goes without saying that, hey, your doctor would probably recommend making this an occasional food rather than a habitual food. Even if you don’t care, you already know that and you don’t need me to tell you.

And you also don’t need me to tell you about making a turkey sandwich at home. But dining out is usually a treat! So as a matter of sample selection, restaurant writing ends up normalizing a sort of distorted, hedonistic fantasy diet that probably shouldn’t exist.

Thing is, I don’t actually eat this way. At least not to the extent you might think.

Clockwise from left: Steamed chicken and rice with scallion-ginger sauce  |  Green shakshuka with avocado and lime | Smoky lamb meatballs with baba ghanoush and roasted asparagus

Other dining critics talk about subsisting on spring mix and lo-cal dressing when they’re off-duty. (Nobody wants to read about that.) I never took it to that extreme, even if I probably should have. I’m stridently of the opinion that eating well and taking care of yourself don’t have to be mutually exclusive.

So when I’m not working, I cook. Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve made dinners like grouper simmered with shallots and fresh tomatoes and fresh herbs, chickpea and kale stew with a splash of coconut milk, yogurt-marinated chicken kebabs with grilled vegetables, misoyaki black cod with goma-ae and pickled ginger, chard and avocado shakshuka with a dusting of queso fresco, steamed chicken breast with bok choy and ginger-scallion relish, or lamb meatballs with baba ghanoush and roasted asparagus.

Clockwise from top left: Misoyaki black cod with goma-ae and pickled ginger  |  Tomato-poached fish with chile oil and herbs | Spiced chickpea stew with coconut and turmeric

Point being, it ain’t all fried chicken and steak.

That said, for the first time since May 2015, I can eat what I want rather than what I have to eat for work. However exciting you might imagine this to be, trust me... it’s at least two orders of magnitude more exciting. I plan to enjoy it for a little while longer before I seriously get to work on myself.

On that note...

Would You Like Some Meat With Your Meat?

...allow me to lose my everloving mind over one of the least healthy, most hedonistic, most meaty, greasy, over-the-top foodstuffs in the greater Phoenix metropolitan area.

I’m talking about the Olympian ideal of Grabowski fare. I’m talking about the thing Chris Farley shoves down his gullet right before giving himself chest compressions. I’m talking about the classic Chicago dish that makes the holy trinity — Chicago dogs, deep dish and Italian beef sandwiches — look like amateur hour.

Behold, the combo from Luke’s of Chicago:

*sploosh*

Chicago may be the only place on earth where ordering a “combo” doesn’t mean your sandwich comes with fries and a drink (though you should probably get those, too). The combo is culinary parody that has assumed corporeal form. And though it has no origin story I’m aware of, we all know exactly how it came to be. Some dude with a ‘stache and a Bears jersey and a 340 cholesterol level who is permanently Vienna Beef-scented from years spent standing over a steam table said to himself one day, ”Hey, if an Italian beef is great and an Italian saaaasage is great, well shit, why not put dem together?”

Why not indeed, my dear, noble Grabowski.

Truly, we are blessed to have so excellent a combo available to us here in Phoenix, 1500 miles from its natural habitat. Cary Del Principe has been doing this forever and the man cuts no corners. The sausage is a fatty, juicy, wide-bore coarse grind with an aggressive shot of fennel and a nice smoky char. The beef is sweet and tender but full-flavored, scented with garlic and oregano. The roasted peppers are supple and sweet, the house giardiniera packs a spicy, oily wallop and the crusty bread is substantial enough to absorb a backyard pool’s worth of garlicky, beefy juice — and I heartily recommend saturating it with as much as it can hold.

Sopping wet bread isn’t a bug, here. It’s a feature.

I always forget to be more explicit with my instructions. It’s never wet enough for my tastes. You do you, of course, but as far as I’m concerned, don’t just dunk it... submerge it. Drown it. Hold that thing down until it stops struggling. It should be an absolute disaster to eat. Triple-bagging shouldn’t be enough to get it home. You should need half a roll of paper towels to get through the damn thing. When you finally step away, you should be glazed with beef juice and olive oil, half-dazed and moaning.

And very, very happy.

I Love Vegetables Too!!!

Clockwise from top left: Lobster mushroom fritatta  |  Roasted beets with smoked salmon and cream cheese  |  Summer squash with zhoug, feta and pine nuts

I mean, classic Charleen Badman, start to finish. Best of the best produce, all of the quirky, unusual varietals you could want, dressed up just enough to make them shine without betraying their essential nature. Cucumber salad? Well, it’s a mix of all kinds of heirloom cucumbers, of course. I have no idea what some of these particular specimens were, but gads, they’re beautiful — distinct flavors and textures, every one, tossed with slivers of sweet onion, lightly dressed with a little buttermilk and vinegar and topped with a tuft of fresh dill. Tiny summer squash were lightly charred and tender, served with pine nuts and crumbled feta atop a thick zhoug bursting with cilantro and cumin.

Salad of roasted honeynut squash, Asian pear, jalapeño, crispy pancetta and parsley

A little seafood snuck in there, and I ain’t mad. The texture of the lobster mushrooms in this frittata — wow — dense and resilient and muscular, set beside a bit of creamy crab salad and crisp chips made from some type of root vegetable. I will never, ever get sick of beets, particularly when they’re served with cream cheese and some stellar smoked salmon. I usually replate dishes for photo time, but this one was a painting right in the takeout container that I didn’t dare disturb. I think my favorite dish on this pass, however — in no small part due to my affinity for pears — was a jumbled up salad of roasted honeynut squash and cool, crisp chunks of Asian pear, topped with crispy pancetta rounds and a little slivered jalapeño and parsley. The crunch and snap, the salty-sweet, the sharp jalapeño against mellow squash, the little bit of char... just a dynamite dish. And I freaking love Asian pears. WHY can I never get Asian pears this good? Nevermind, I know the answer. It just makes me sad.

Take home message: Not that you needed me to tell you, but FnB... still fucking awesome.

The Archives

This format is fun, and I plan to continue it for a while, but I’m a digital pack rat, so the ephemeral nature of a newsletter freaks me out a little bit.

Enter somethingtodoux.com!

It is... not pretty. But it is functional, and I’ll prettify it later. (Read: Whenever I feel like it. That’s how I roll these days.) Here you can find all of the previous editions of Something To Doux, as well as a handy newsletter signup form. I think folks found the email system a little confusing, and a link is easier to share anyway. But while you’ll be able to look up back editions on the site, the newsletter is still the way to go if you want first crack at the tasty stuff. I’ll wait a week or two before adding these to the archives. I don’t mind showing a little favoritism for the folks who let me invade their inbox every now and again ;-)