Some days you feel like a nut, as the old Almond Joy commercial told us, and some days you don’t. As for me, some days I feel like a bloody haunch of barely seared cow flesh. Some days I feel like alfalfa sprouts and tofu.
Ahh, the cuisines of Peru. Some of my most memorable food experiences occurred in this hospitable South American land.
Like the time we stayed over in Cuzco, high in the Andes, after a trip to Machu Picchu. Bored by our hotel’s American-style dining room, we went in search of something more authentic: pollo a la brasa — charcoal-roasted chicken, that is, modern Peru’s people’s fare. We soon found a cozy spot with a sign that read, simply, “Pollo” (“Chicken”). Continue reading Mr. Pollo Restaurant offers a simple and safe taste of Peru→
The Irish Rover has been my comfy neighborhood pub for a long time now. We moved back to town from exile in New York City in 1994, not long after the Rover had opened its authentically Irish digs in a historic Crescent Hill building that began life more than 150 years ago as a saloon. Continue reading ‘Crack-a-licious’ small plates at the Irish Rover→
Swiftly fly the years …
Yeah, right. Now that I’ve successfully planted that earworm, let me say I can’t believe it’s been so long since I first reviewed Equus, a then-new restaurant in St. Matthews that was buzzing under a new owner and chef, Dean Corbett, for the old Louisville Times in 1985. Continue reading Say hello to the new Equus, sort of like the old Equus→
“Tell me what you eat, and I will tell you what you are.” Not merely the intro line of the original Japanese “Iron Chef,” this fundamental hypothesis goes back to the French gourmet Anthelme Brillat-Savarin’s 1825 gastronomic essay, “Physiology of Taste.”
If Brillat-Savarin had examined my dinner at Peking City Bistro, he might have concluded I am a pregnant Chinese woman, a revelation that would come as a considerable surprise to both my mother and my wife.