I have recently been in Cincinnati and my co workers and I were headed to the Red and Giants game on a rainy Tuesday night. We decided to get some food before the game instead of eating hot dogs all night. We stopped off at Local 127 and was not sure what we were getting into but there was a giant pig in the middle of the restaurant. That is always a good sign.

We ordered a bunch of stuff for the table and based everything on the waiters recommendations and the pork dishes. We were a little disappointed at the recommendations we went with. It was not the taste of the food but a lot of the apps had the same type of sauce and taste with different dishes. I just want to highlight our favorite small plate and large plate. Here is how it went down

Our favorite of the small plates was the Roasted Beets with Prosciutto, Goat Cheese, Crispy Shallots, and Red Wine Reduction seen above. It had such a good taste to it mixing the beets and goat cheese. They nailed that dish.

Our favorite of the large plates was the Porkopolis which includes White Bean Ragout, Wilted Cabbage, Bacon-Tomato Jam, and Red Wine Reduction. With a name like Porkopolis how could it be bad. There was different pork tastes in each bite and I liked how it laid on a bed of white beans.

The one large plate that tasted good but through us for a loop was the Meat Loaf Mac & Cheese with Squash, Mushroom Gravy, and House Made Ketchup. It was more of a meat loaf dish than a mac and cheese dish. The noodles were all under the meat loaf and not that much of it. In the picture you can even see any noodles. We never got the taste of the squash in the dish. The meat loaf had some great taste but I guess our expectations were more of a mac and cheese dish than a meat loaf dish.

We were so stuffed that after dinner we went to the game and made it by the 5th inning. It was so wet and we were so full we walked in watched an inning and left. I actually have know idea who won the game. I’m a Yankee fan so it really doesn’t matter.

Last week I had the unique opportunity to partake in an ancient ritual that in modern days has come under quite a lot of scrutiny. I’ll let the video speak for itself, mostly. I will say, I love meat. I think our industrial food chain is a disturbing mess but at the root, eating meat is a pleasure that I will not willingly give up. The recent advent of smaller farms providing better living conditions, feed and slaughter practices have thankfully given me an alternative to funding these disastrous factory farms and “processing” plants through my meat habit. I am conscious of where I by my meat from. How they were raised and how they were killed are just as important as what they taste like. In fact the two go hand in hand. That said it is very difficult to buy meat from these sources all the time. Not to mention expensive. I hope, over time, these smaller farms become the norm and the availability and usage increase to become the norm. The video above chronicles my very personal experience on the road to this goal. Enjoy.

If you are looking for more, my friend Liza does a great job telling a bovine story.

We all know Greenpoint is home to many Polish families. Maybe you don’t, but if you have ever walked down Manhattan Ave. north of Greenpoint Ave it takes but a block to realize. Three butcher shops and 2 bakeries in the first block all with too many consonants in their name is a good tip off. I’ve lived on this stretch of Manhattan Ave. for three years now. There are weekend mornings I wake up and on the walk for coffee I hear not a word of english. It’s a bit eerie and a a bit comfortable at the same time. The comfortable far out weights the eerie, at least for me. Not only does it make me feel like I am traveling, which I love, but it excites my sense of discovery. The effect is intensified once you step into one of the shops. Be it a stop for Kielbasa or bobka the first words spoken to you are usually not those you understand. This may make these places intimidating. It may even make them a hassle to shop in.

I writing to debunk that theory. To do that I went straight to the heart of this matter. I went to Polam. Polam is the butcher shop that sits one store in from the corner of Manhattan Ave and Java St. One of my all time joys when traveling is to visit a butcher shop or food store in a country that I do not speak the language. There are only so many ways to cut up a pig. Once you know the cuts the language barrier has little ramifications. Some pointing, nodding and smiling usually gets the job done. Entering Polam is not much different.

It’s been 3 years since I first crossed this fabricated border into the heart of Warsaw. Since that first visit I have learned my proszę and dziękuję’s but you don’t need them to revel in the delicious smoked pork that is stacked, much of it still warm, five slabs high inside. In fact, you’ll have more difficulty fitting inside the chronically packed, tiny shop then you will communicating with the butcher. The picture at the top of this post is a still warm, slab of smoked bacon I bought last weekend to construct the base for a mac and cheese. I think that experience perfectly captures the point I am attempting to explain. Let me walk you through.

It was mid-day on a Friday. (Note: A much better time to go than a weekend or weekday post work) The line inside was slim. Maybe 6 deep. The temperature was below 50 degrees. Meat was stacked inside the glass cold-case which stretched the length of the store. Across the top of the case more meat four or five slabs deep. I made my way to the rear of the shop and stood next to the chicken case looking lengthwise down the long thin walkway towards the front door. Inside the case were half butchered and whole chickens. Heads, feet, necks, it was all in there. On top was the over flow of bacon that could not fit on the counter ahead of me. As I moved up through the line I entered the pork area. Hanging kielbasa’s of 13 variations dangled in my face. Ten other types of sausage sat inside the case in front of me including a giant blood sausage. Behind me was a case of dairy. Yogurt, five types of framer’s cheese and some fresh pierogies overflow from it. Abruptly a butcher interrupted me as I stared and gaped at the two cases to my right. Both were filled with cold cuts. Hot, smoked chicken quarters were piled up across the top of it. I snapped from my trance and acknowledge the butchers “Witam. Jak mogę pomóc?” with a simple but direct response, “smoked bacon”. He pointed to several slabs and explained, in half polish half english, the difference. One was smoked and uncooked. One was uncooked and unsmoked. Another was cooked but not smoked. For some reason all were hot. I paused and tried to sort my options for a second. Inside of that second the butcher grabed a slab, held it high in the air and hacked off a chunk with his 9 inch, razor sharp, semi-permanent hand extension. He handed me the piece of pork belly and moved on to cut pieces from the other slabs. After a mini pork fest I decided to go with the 4 pound smoked and cooked slab pictured at top. He wrapped it and stamped it without dropping his knife. “What else?’ he then asked. When I told him nothing he refused my answer. He proceeded to entice me with other hot smokey meats that were just pulled from the smoker or that had been hanging in the shop so long the taste was deliciously intense. Hacking piece after piece he continued feeding me until I caved in and bought an aged kielbasa. I put my hands up and signaled “enough”. He smiled and moved on to the next patron. I stepped back and into the register line. Not a word of english had been spoken the entire 15 minutes I was in the shop except for the few that I had with the butcher yet, I had my prize and some snacks to boot. Stepping out of Polam I re-entered the US without a passport, a duty free shop or even a glimpse of a customs agent. A half a block later I was in my kitchen sorting my spoils. The bacon sliced beautifully releasing an amazing smoked but fresh aroma. It was not greasy or slimy. The bacon bottomed mac and cheese was a tasty success and my kielbasa snack was the perfect cooking fuel.

I hope my point came across. My goal was to provide a window into these shops for those who usually just walk by them. The new and tragically hip business’ that are popping up all over are awesome but they are only half of the neighborhood. This contrast of new and old is what makes Greenpoint and many other ‘hoods in Brooklyn special. The gentrification of Manhattan has mad it sterile. No surprise there. But remember, that is why you moved to Brooklyn. Or, at the very least, that is why you hoped an L train to a G (or shuttle bus) and came to the neighborhood. You seek that neighborhood feel. Indulge in every piece of it.

Last week was a doozy. Yesterday was no exception. Lots of eatin’. I ended the work week on a high note that took my belt back a notch. I don’t think there is much more to say that the video can’t explain. But, if for some reason you do have a question, drop it in the comments and I will be sure to answer. I will say, if you are looking for a mess of smoked pork piled onto butcher paper and thrown on a cafeteria tray, Hill Country might be the best game in town. The theatrics alone are 5 star. Quick warning, never go to this spot with me. I will make you leave in pain. Have you ever passed a 3″ pork chop around the table with your hands? I didn’t think so.

Hill Country
30 West 26th Street
New York, NY 10010
(212) 255-4544
hillcountryny.com

When I say this was a long time, and talk, coming. I am not kidding. I was in Santa Barbera for my great friends’ wedding. The night I arrived in town I needed some tasty. I was with my work wife Jen, who most of you know. We walked the main drag in SB looking for the right spot. As we passed Pierre Lafond’s Wine Bistro I was drawn in. Then I saw it. On the brunch menu was a double cut pork chop First of all, a pork chop for breakfast is KING. Second, you double cut that and I’ll love faster than Tom Cruise saying “Hello” to a swollen Zellweger. But, I had to postpone the infatuation for 18 hours.

The next day I returned (hours before the wedding) ready to roll up my sleeves, sip some tasty white wine and dig on that double cut swine. Yes, I am rhyming. I brought along a few new friends and Jen of course. She was not missing this meal. We were 6 total. A few bottles were popped and we got down to the business of ordering. Ben, sitting to my left, said he would have the chop. I immediately replied by saying I would need to have that too. He gave me a look. I just met Ben. He is a food guy too. In fact, he does a great little supper club in San Fran. He is also married to my good friend Kelly. He followed his look with the best 2 words you can say to me at a restaurant. Let’s share. With that, he and I were off to the races. We racked up 4 apps for the table including this lobster salad sandwich.

And then piled on the double cut chop and a roasted free range chicken for entrees.

The chicken was ok BUT the pork chop did not disappoint. Juicy, thick and perfectly cooked as you can see. I think that Lafond’s can be hit or miss with what you order but the pork is so good it is worth the visit just to see the plate arrive. The wine held up to the establishments name with two great bottles of wine poured over the 2 hour meal.

Before we knew it the wedding was to begin in 2 hours. With a mild mid day buzz we strolled home to change with the warm Santa Barbara sun keeping us warm and “fuzzy” as we strolled.

Pierre Lafond: Bistro
516 State Street
Santa Barbara, CA 93101-1602
(805) 962-1455