Random Act of Kindness Wednesday topped off with Dinner Out...again

I ate out again for Restaurant Week this past Wednesday.  This time I went with colleagues.  Bear in mind that I went to a steakhouse the week before.  More steak this outing.  That's OK, though; I don't eat it very often and it was melt-in-your-mouth tender.  It was also a nice way to cap off the end of a day that had a very surprisingly pleasant morning.

During my Wednesday morning commute two Wednesdays ago I sat next to a lady who was reading the paper.  Mind you, we never exchanged a word.  (This was the quiet car, after all.)  I don't even think we glanced at each other when I sat down next to her.  She read her paper and I read my book.  (The morning Metro wasn't available that day and I gave up my daily subscription to The Philadelphia Inquirer so I could read more books.)  When we prepared to disembark at the same station, she put her neatly organized paper on the seat.  I whispered (again - quiet car and I'm maniacal about that!), "Are you done with your newspaper?"  She whispered back, "Yes" so I smiled, said a hushed "Thank you" and that was that.

The next week on the same day - Wednesday - I noticed a woman waiting to get off.  I vaguely recognized her as the "newspaper woman."  I was several rows behind her and she let many people pass, and didn't make a move to get off.  When I prepared to pass by her she smiled and handed me the paper!  I was so pleasantly stunned!  How thoughtful and kind was that?!  We walked off the train silently (you know why it was "silently" by now) and she took off ahead of me.  She was content to let her kindness pass without a word.  I was not.

I caught up to my newspaper patron and said (in normal, conversational volume now), "Thank you so much for the paper.  That was really kind.  I used to get it daily but couldn't keep up with it so it's a real treat to read it during the week."  She went on to say she struggles to keep up with it, too.  We wished each other a pleasant day and parted. 

That random act of kindness left me with an inner smile (a glow?) for most of the day.  Even though we all know this, it really is the little things in life that make memories of a lifetime.  It also reminds me to "pay it forward" whenever possible.

After my "feel good" day, I headed with my colleagues to Del Frisco's.  I'm not crazy about chains and this one has about 9 locations in the "in the business and entertainment epicenters of the country’s most exciting and vibrant cities."   (Always feeling like Philly is the ugly step-sister of New York City - even while living up in NYC - it's nice that it's considered an "epicenter," although I think that may be a bit of a stretch.)  Regardless of its chain status, I went to Del Frisco's without any real reluctance.  I wanted to see what the hype was about.

The restaurant is cavernous.  Like Butcher and Singer, the previous steakhouse I blogged about a few entries back, Del Frisco's is in a former bank.  The picture to the left was not taken the evening I was there but it slightly shows the large staircase, the bottom of which greets the diner upon arrival.  It also shows the enormity of the space and its capacity.

The space actually felt too big.  I think it took my party about two minutes to walk up the stairs, head to the back of the restaurant, and then back again along the mezzanine to the front of the building.  Intimate it is not.  Butcher and Singer-comfortable-space it is not.  It's not uncomfortable either but it's...factory-like.  I had visions of a conveyor belt in the kitchen.

The view from the top of the stairs looking toward the entrance 

My filet mignon came with wonderful mashed potatoes and a salad.  I had a flan for dessert, which was also good.  Would I go back?  Probably not.  Been to one chain, been to them all, right?  Well, maybe not.  I'm not sure what the Del Frisco's restaurants in Charlotte or Dallas or Las Vegas look like in terms of the space they occupy, but I'm willing to bet they may not be as "grand" as the restaurants in old cities with Del Frisco's locations like Boston and NYC and...yes...even "epicenter" Philadelphia.

At the end of the day, I was grateful for my experiences.  I had the chance to wander into a new restaurant where I had a memorable steak.  I experienced a random act of kindness.  Both my stomach and my heart were fed that day.  I was fortunate.

Jose Garces and Chifa in Philadelphia

Restaurant Week is in its second week in Philadelphia.  Monday night I headed to Chifa, which melds Peruvian and Cantonese cuisine, and the result is amazingly interesting - and delicious!

Chifa is owned by Chef Jose Garces of former Iron Chef fame.  He opened his first restaurant, Amada, in Philadelphia in 2005.  He now has a total of five restaurants in Philly and one in Chicago (Mercat a la Planxa, where Garces is the executive chef).  The Philadelphia restaurants (descriptions compliments of the Food Network website) are:

• Amada - an authentic Andalusian tapas bar
• Chifa - a Latin-Asian restaurant named after the Peruvian restaurants of the same name
• Distrito - spirited celebration of the vibrant culture and cuisine of Mexico City (Blogger's comment here:  This restaurant has a huge array of Mexican wrestling masks, which are both scary and very intriguing.)
• Tinto - a wine bar and restaurant inspired by the Basque region of Northern Spain and Southern France
• Village Whiskey - a classic American bar with over 80 whiskies and bar snacks

The Food Network website also mentions that "Distrito and Mercat were named to Esquire Magazine's list of 20 Best New Restaurants 2008."

I've enjoyed Amada and Distrito in the past but I was especially looking forward to Chifa.  I knew of the Peruvian-Cantonese blend, and later learned (via Wikipedia) that

Chifa is a term used in Peru to refer to a style of Chinese cooking in which ingredients which are available in Peru have been substituted for those originally used in China.

Because I have a Peruvian stepmother who has spoken about the Asian influence in her homeland, I was looking forward to having this experience and telling her about it.  Although, I forgot to mention it to her when I spoke to her last.  Had I remembered to tell her about the food, I would have told her the ceviche was not "normal" ceviche but more a curry and coconut cold stew.  The veggie spring rolls were lighter than typical Chinese fare.  Ironically, perhaps because of fatigue, those are the only comments I can remember right now.  All I would need for her to know is that the food was good and the atmosphere enjoyable.  (One caveat:  I was sitting in the "middle" dining area - not the one back by the kitchen and also not where I could view the bar.  When I walked to the restroom in the back section of the restaurant the noise was deafening.  I'm glad I wasn't sitting in that area.)

I've been very pleased with all three of the Garces restaurants I've tried to date.  I can't wait to find more interesting and delicious food at Garces' other restaurants.  I've also made a mental note to contact my friend in Chicago (who loved Chifa) and tell her not to miss Mercat in her city.

Dean's in Bellmawr, NJ

My friends who recommended Dean's kept saying "Wait'll you see what they serve food in" and "The portions are H-U-G-E."  They made these comments with smiles and enthusiasm.  So much so, in fact, that it made me want to see it for myself.

Dean's is just over the river from Philadelphia.  It is not fancy and it's decorated to look like it's at the shore.  There are dune fences and giant crabs and fish on the walls, as well as funny signs.  The restaurant is definitely a festive atmosphere. 

The food was good, for sure.  True to what I had been told, food was delivered creatively.  Sugar for coffee was brought out in miniature wicker chairs.  Oil and vinegar for the salad was in baby bottles.  I was served my chicken parm in a giant skillet with a little bucket in it.  Sides came in dog food bowls.  After the initial laugh and plenty of "Oh wows" at the sheer enormity of what we were given to eat, at some point the amount became almost gross.  (One meal can literally be at least 4 dinners.)  I think I got close to a pound of pasta and at least 4 very large chicken breasts. 

At first I thought I would go back to Dean's with some folks who might enjoy the schtick.  The more I think of it, I will recommend Dean's for a laugh and solidly good food so people can just see it for themselves.  I don't need to go over the river...I can just spread the word.

Not Worth a Tinker's Dam

I was driving through South Philly tonight and noticing the ways of an old, traditional neighborhood - complete with religious icons in the windows, old folks sitting out on the porch, and corner mom-and-pop, Italian restaurants.  It made me think of my long-gone grandmother, even though she was neither Italian nor lived in a city!

I could just imagine one of those South Philadelphians I saw tonight using my grandmother's exclamation, "That's not worth a tinker's darn."  I did not realize until several years later that this phrase was really, "That's not worth a tinker's dam."  When I was old enough to appreciate the true statement, I asked my grandmother about it.  Turns out she explained it dead-on.

According to the website usingenglish.com,

This means that something is worthless and dates back to when someone would travel around the countryside repairing things such as a kitchen pot with a hole in it. He was called a 'tinker'. His dam was used to stop the flow of soldering material being used to close the hole. Of course his 'trade' is passé, thus his dam is worth nothing.

There is a whole conversation around whether this original phrase is actually about "a tinker's damn," or a tinker's curse.  A British website (phrases.org.uk), details this part of the etymology.   While I find this latter information interesting, I do not feel compelled to examine it tonight.  Just the pleasant and comforting thought of this interaction with my grandmother is enough.  Right now, because I'm tired, any more than that is just not worth a tinker's dam.

It's Restaurant Week(s) in Philadelphia

I saw it happen when I lived in New York and it is happening here in Philadelphia.  "Restaurant Week" is no longer extended after the first week, it is two weeks right from the start.  For Philadelphia's Restaurant Week happening now, there are over one hundred participating restaurants offering 3-course meals for $35.  I will be sampling three restaurants this time around.  I enjoyed one tonight.

Restaurant Week is a wonderful time to try restaurants you otherwise have not tried or would be hesitant to try without the pre-fixe dinner (or lunch).  The only downside - if I had to come up with one - is that diners may occasionally feel rushed as this is a time restaurants are often packed and therefore discourage lingering over that wine, coffee, or dessert. I felt a little bit of that tonight but it wasn't too bad.

Butcher and Singer is yet another pearl in the string of Stephen Starr restaurants.  (The majority of which are in Philadelphia but others are in New York and Atlantic City.)  Treat yourself to the fun "old Hollywood" Butcher and Singer website - and be sure to have your volume on.  The website touts the restaurant as

An homage to old Hollywood, low lights and dark woods evoke a feeling reminiscent
of a bygone era when women donned full red lips, men wore a suit and tie and post-Prohibition liquor flowed freely.

This well describes the atmosphere.  The only thing that would make it more authentically 1940's (or so) Hollywood (per the black-and-white movie clips I currently see in my mind's eye) would be cigarette smoke, and maybe a piano player.  Regardless, the place has a feel to it that I haven't experienced recently.  It didn't feel pretentious; it felt like it captured the zeitgeist of a bygone era.

This restaurant resides in an old bank.  Before launching Butcher and Singer at this location, Stephen Starr became the second owner of the previous restaurant in this space - the venerable Striped Bass.  Starr recognized the seafood fare was no longer succeeding and therefore changed the theme.  He did this to the dismay of many.  Even Craig LaBan, a food critic for The Philadelphia Inquirer, lamented "the dear departed Striped Bass" in his February 2009 review of Butcher and Singer.  The Cliff Notes version of LaBan's assessment is an excellent (3 bell in LaBan's parlance) review of this steak and chop house that replaced the Striped Bass.

LaBan talks about the "stellar" chops and "exceptional" New York strip and filet mignon. (My filet mignon was very good.)   While LaBan had some slight criticism of the food in his 2009 review, I cannot think of any criticism of my tomato and mozzarella appetizer, the two sides I tried (green beans almondine and mashed potatoes) and the simply delicious creme caramel.  LaBan also took note of the "retro chophouse look" and the "Servers (who) shake and strain the icy cocktails tableside, streaming bygone gimlets, sidecars and perfect manhattans into elegant stemware." 

It would be hard to imagine anyone describing Butcher and Singer's food without commenting how the atmosphere takes diners back to a different time. The chandeliers, dark wood, and brass, combined with the wait staff in pseudo-tuxedo jackets, made be feel like tonight was Restaurant Week 1945.

Everyone has a Story

I was on the El today (the subway-then-elevated train in Philly that runs east/west) and saw a nicely dressed woman.  She had on a long skirt and pretty blouse, both of which were tasteful and well-pressed.  She had on conservative jewelry.  Her hair was styled and her nails (hands and feet) were recently manicured.  She carried a bag that I saw her looking in for something; it appeared to contain a wallet, book, and other items. 

Why did I notice this lady?  She didn't have on any shoes.  She was barefooted.  I thought, "Are her shoes in the bag?"  Hhmmm, didn't seem possible given its size.  I looked around.  No one else seemed to notice. 

What is her story?  Whatever it is, it is now a part of mine.

The Museum of Bad Art

Yup, MOBA, not MOMA.  This is the museum of Art Too Bad To Be Ignored.  It's "the only museum dedicated to bringing the worst of art to the widest of audiences."

MOBA has two galleries in Massachusetts.  If you can't wander there, wander over to the MOBA website to view the collection.  You can also learn how to donate art.