You won't believe the California wine industry's latest new-age craze.
They lived for excitement, but the FBI got the final thrill.
Chuck Bundrant built an unlikely seafood empire--with a little help from Alaska Senator Ted Stevens.
How a benevolent billionaire mayor ended up owning us all.
I feel that way about meatballs. In my bowl of pasta, smoked mozzarella ravioli surrounded a giant veal-and-ground-beef meatball so big, I could have played croquet with it. Thompson uses very little breading for his meatballs, but in this case, egg and a handful of breadcrumbs would have made for a more memorably moist polpetta. A couple of smaller, marinara-simmered meatballs would have served the dish even better. Kathi ordered the fish and chips, which were seductively crunchy but not Thompson's most inventive culinary offering.
"Our chef makes wonderfully creative desserts," our server said before rattling off a list of exotic-sounding sweets. Kathi chose a lime bar — delightfully citrusy but too doughy. Susie was intrigued by the idea of the chocolate soup, a glossy, puddinglike concoction of yogurt, brandy and chocolate served in a cocktail glass. Kathi and I watched her take the first bite. "The yogurt gives it body," Susie said, "but I can't taste the brandy."
A few days later, I had lunch at Twist with my friend Betty. She adored the place and raved about the food, but one of the ingredients on the BLT sandwich confused her. "What's lime-spritzed bacon?" she asked the waiter.
He said it was bacon splashed with fresh lime juice. "It's one of the things we do," he told us, conspiratorially, "that gives us that different twist."
I didn't taste a hint of lime on the bacon. Maybe, like the brandy in the chocolate soup, you have to imagine it to be there. A clever twist indeed.
Click here to write a letter to the editor.