Frescas

Frescas is definitely the most reliable "nice" restaurant around. I don't recall ever feeling annoyed or leaving with lots of ideas of how things could have been better, which, as we've established, happens regularly. On this visit we were satisfied once again. There was a small something that could be considered an 'incident' (pork was pretty pink and needed to go back to the kitchen), but was made up for immediately and well, plus they have so much strong capital built up, I don't hold it against them. I'd have to say that in Frescas case, I could totally NOT run that restaurant better. See? I'm not a total douchebag.

First there were the fruity drinks. He got one called the Umbrella drink, with came adorned with lots of frills which he promptly removed. I had a pomegranite martini, and stole his umbrella. They were perfectly tasty, thank you very much.

Frescas used to serve cute little individual loaves of bread served hot on its own little wooden cutting board, with a small pot of herb butter and a teeny bowl of oil cured olives. Now THAT'S the way to start a meal! Now they serve large, warm slices of frenchy type bread, crusty on the outside soft on the inside, with olive oil and butter. Also delectable, if not quite as adorable.

I didn't take a picture because it was just bread.

Then there was the gorgonzola and shrimp dip with pancetta and greasy, crispy crostinis, and a baby spinach salad with grilled cippolini onions, raspberries and oven baked goat cheese. Oh and toasted hazelnuts. YUMMERS!

I had sea scallops and lobster ravioli. It was delish, hot and soft and melty in my mouth. He ate my nasturtium because I don't like to eat pretty flowers, for whatever reason.

This is the Snowball, on the menu for every season I've ever been to Frescas. It's vanilla ice cream rolled in poundcake crumbs, served with toffee chocolate crumbles. Uuuunnnggggghhhhhhmmmmmm....

This is what it looked like when we were done. Too full even to finish off the flowers!

The end. Thanks Frescas! Food, service, cleanliness, and ambiance were all great. We'll be back!

It's good to have friends who can cook...

Enjoyed a birthday barbecue at a friend's the other day, only got one picture to portray the delectable splendor. These particular friends are stellar hosts, cooks, cocktail makers, you name it. Here we see the tuna and bright pink salmon that had been grilled and served with a bit of tamari marinade, a melt-in-your-mouth sliced baked/grilled potato, a brightly flavored lentil salad, and a delicious olive/eggplant/tomato/onion concoction that I could have eaten all day long. Note the tendril of watercress that had been gathered that day from Blackwater Farm creek, part of a salad with homemade mustard dressing... loverly. I was also served a lychee liqueur martini with a black currant syrup floater that was to die for. And all it cost is my friendship!

Icky's

The most pathetic clam ever served: it's the perfect introduction - in fact, my very reason and inspiration - for starting this blog. That and my iPhone... which makes this whole thing much easier. So, take a good look at this, one clam off a plate of Gorgonzola Baked Littlenecks at...ahem... Icky's Nay. Note: this clam had note yet been eaten. It arrived in this very state. This is at a restaurant with fewer than 10 tables, 2 of which were occupied when we got there...not exactly a bustling place or a crazed kitchen.

I mean, come on.

My appetizer was three stuffed mushrooms. It looked good, but I remember only the dry, chewy chunks of mozzarella and the watery alfredo sauce. Blech.

I had the Pork Scallopine... it was incredibly oily, to the point that when I was done eating, I felt absolutely sick and kind of wanted to die for a few minutes. It didn't taste that bad, I guess, while actually eating it. The pork was a bit dry, and the cheese raviolis were strangely sweet, which turned me off. The fried sage was nice. Still can't forget about the "wanting to die" part.

Not bad Chicken Piccata, though I only had a few bites. Note the floor of the restaurant, same tile as the bathroom floor of my grammar school. Nice.

Sorry, Icky's Nay. We can't afford more than a first impression. We won't be back.