#expect when you need to chop onions for the supper of wash the plates

[randomnameless]

How dare you diss Seliph/Larcei! /s In all seriousness, congrats on finishing FE4. You have way more patience than I did for sprawling, overly large maps and enemy density on par with the amazon rainforest. I just watched a play through after chapter 2 got me really annoyed.

Well, thank you!

It’s not really dissing on Seliph/Larcei, but being the ever so smiling Queen behind a balcony doesn’t seem to fit Larcei - who’s only characterisation was, beyond crushing on Shanan and believing her mom’s alive, running in the melee to rekt Dozels and free her country.

Maybe the new Queen of Granvalle wasn’t demoted to “hand-waving at the balcony” duty, but with this game, i can’t be sure. 

If Ethlyn and Quan’s mom could be respected as warriors and co-rulers, if Rahna was a Queen in her own right, i doubt the “Ladies of Granvalle” were anything else but ladies without a name - as in, we don’t care and we never mention them ever again

and this is why Hilda is a wonderful character in the second gen because she is part of the “Ladies of Granvalle”’s group, but she does things on her own! She had agency! even if it’s to hunt children or torture her sister-in-law to death

[briarofthebush]

I’m in my favourite place for a casual coffee and snack in my local area. I live in a pretty commercial corner of the town, which boasts about 5 Starbucks and one cosy café, one old-school diner, several other franchised café/eateries such as ‘Chipotle’, ‘Panda Express’, ‘Red Robin’ and ‘Subway’ just to name a few. When I can, I love an excuse to take me out of this highly commercial area so I can enjoy a good coffee, and a good vibe in an independent business. My local café is often too dark, the food is pretty ordinary, and the noise unworkable. There is no nice vibe, in fact it feels hostile at times.

Here, where I am this morning, up the road a bit, away from the shopping district, there is the smell of coffee and good, smoky bacon. There are always a lot of relaxed people around, many in my own demographic, as well as younger and older. Lots of dog owners (though they keep dogs outside). People play with their kids (or ignore them) on a big rug at the back. Many people have become familiar faces to me. There is light. The coffee is excellent. The food is usually delicious. They make coconut bread and a maple and bacon muffin which is awesome. I meet here to ‘write’ every Friday morning, though sometimes it’s purely a social gathering. Oh, and they know my name now, when I order stuff!

This place sits up on Roosevelt Rd, along with a few pubs and another couple of restaurants, amongst other small businesses in Mapleleaf. I love this part of town. It is a very steep 15 minute walk up through the suburb from my place, or it’s a short bus ride.

I can get a really good fresh croissant here, or a breakfast sandwich on an English muffin or a Bagel. There are lots of cakes and quiches to choose from. There is a range of great looking sandwiches that they will make fresh, including the BBQ pork, the Cuban, Turkey, cream cheese and cranberry, Tuna salad, Mediterranean roasted veges, (though I’ve yet to try one).  I often get a croissant with ham and cheddar, which is chockers with good ham, unlike in Australia, where the meat portion on a sandwich is distinctly light-on. (I really think there is no excuse for skimping on the meat in a sandwich, because they are incredibly expensive, for that tiny sliver of turkey or beef or pork they give you at home.) Let the Americans take credit for knowing how to put together a good sandwich.

Although don’t get me started on the bread. AS we speak, I am stocking up on par-baked and bakery reads in my freezer, because there is no such thing as a corner bakery for miles or a milk bar where can grab a loaf on my way home from places, and I live a good walk from the supermarket. I have tried several of the packaged brands of bread, the white, the whole-wheat, the grainy, and they all stick to the roof of our mouths. They have so much sugar in them. They feel wrong, they taste wrong. Only the Italian style or Sour dough breads are less sugary. The good bakery breads are excellent, but as I said, I have to get to a supermarket that is out of my way when I’m in transit, so I make special ‘bread shopping’ trips to stock up. If I had a bigger kitchen, I would make my own.

I love to buy a sandwich at QFC, an upmarket grocery where I can also get a hot sandwich from the deli counter on my way out, and savour it’s deliciousness on the way home as a reward for walking up to the supermarket along the noisy, smelly road. They give them names like ‘The Rainier’ or ‘The Snohomish’, and pack them full of really nice cheese, pestos, relishes, mustards and Boars Head Cured meats. I always feel like a bit of criminal for ordering one, but it is so worth it to get one. And always get it cut in half so it can be stretched to 2 meals, or shared.  One day Johnny and I greedily thought we could eat more than a ½ roll each, and ordered a grilled cheese sandwich as well to share on our way home. We were really hungry and it was a very cold and grey day. We walked past the old homeless guy on his wheelie-walker on our way in, and the minute we saw him again on our way out we knew we had to give the grilled cheese to him.  I will one day be greedy enough to order one for myself.

These are but a few memorable foody experiences I have had here in Seattle, in USA generally. I wish I could say I’ve had many more, but I really did know what I was in for, moving here. I knew it could be a challenge, to be able to eat what I was used to here. I knew the food would, at the very least, look different, and possibly taste differently. I have been really fortunate to fall in with foody types, who have travelled, and have shaken loose their need to have every little thing BBQed, covered in buffalo sauce and bleu cheese and other indiscriminate flavourings, or in a burger… people who ‘get’ food, and care where it comes from, and that it is different the world over.  We’ve been taken to a place that does oysters and raw food, which is possibly the best place in town, we’ve had amazingly cooked Central American food at a gaudy old garage painted up to be a festive cantina- served Mojitos with plantain chips and moles to die for. We’ve had beautifully cooked Bistec et frites in a French restaurant, crab dips, lobster rolls, Aussie style pies, authentic Mexican food, Indian food, Korean banquet, Yum Cha and Southern style food truck delights. We had Caribbean style jerk cooked food in beautiful sandwiches, in another converted garage. (This up-cycling of mechanic workshops into restaurants is to be commended).  We were fed a delicious crab and lobster filled ravioli- lasagne at Christmas. We have had fresh filled dumplings cooked for us, pork ribs and roasted chickens and lamb chops cooked for us by our friends in their homes. Beautiful, fresh and nutritious food.

We’ve have tried Southern fried chicken in a few places, and I can’t fault it anywhere. It is always delicious. All I know is, I should never really have it.

All the same, as much as Seattle is fast becoming a foody destination, (according to word on the ‘street’), the idea where a café is a more casual place where there is restaurant style great food available has not quite caught on. Not in the suburbs, at least. People still expect and receive the over-sized sandwiches, huge plates of diced potato and bacon with everything, hot or BBQ sauce with everything, and there seems to be an expectation for people’s plates to be loaded up with no space left. Loaded up to the roof in some cases. Lunch is often a 3 courses on an order affair, with soup, salad, chips to go with your sandwich, panini, burger or bagel. You feel weird just ordering a sandwich. But I quite like the ½ sandwich +soup options in some places. (You don’t have to be a pig). You are often expected to order at the counter and bus your own dishes. As nice as the staff are at the counter, they don’t often clean up after you. Everyone knows where to put their dirty dishes. Salads are often very much a chopped up bowl of everything in a bowl. I have seen maybe two carefully arranged salads on a plate in 20 months.

Breakfast, on the other hand, is a FULL plate of stuff, and often a pancake to go with it. The American breakfast is seemingly a tradition that will never budge, especially since people in the west will now eat biscuits and gravy, fried chicken and waffles, and even pulled meat on their eggs Bene, (which often is smothered in béchamel and not hollandaise). The Avocado Smash phenomenon and the Shakshuka are happening, but only in those very trendy cafes where people line up out the door, such as you see on Portlandia. The best option if you don’t want to walk out feeling like you’ve done something really dirty and need to go and take a long shower and hit the gym all afternoon, is to have a breakfast bagel or croissant. Which is what I do here quite often. They don’t actually do big plates of food here, just sandwiches, quiches and cakes. Beautiful cakes, wholesome and generously full of fruit or nuts. Their coconut bread is to die for.

Today I am going to do something different for me, and order pie (fruit, probably berry), only I didn’t see any pies in the display case at the counter. But I do know that, unlike at home where you feel very strange and humiliated to ask for things you cannot see, I know I can ask here and they will probably want to give me along and well explained story about the display case being broken or the pie oven being broken or the berry supplier being on strike. And then we’ll probably get talking about my accent and about someone’s sister who went to Adelaide or somewhere. It will be pleasant and not humiliating. And then I’ll order something else.

When I leave here I will probably hit QFC and grab some good bread and maybe even a sandwich for Johnny and I to share for lunch. If we go to the pub later it will mean a fairly naughty food option. Happy Hour Food is often quite calorie heavy. Cheese balls, Fried curds with a delicious raspberry sauce, Fries, pulled pork potato skins, pizettes, nachos, burgers, sliders, buffalo wings are some of the things you might find on the menu. One of our 2 locals has much more fresh fare, (woodfired pizzas and salads for example) and the other has much more traditionally prepared, aka fried food. Unfortunately the one with the cheap Mug Club beer is the one with all the greasy options. My favourite item on their menu is a raw tuna Poke ‘nachos’ on fried wonton skins, with mashed avocado, jalapeno slices, spring onion and a teriyaki dressing. It is really delicious, but doesn’t seem to line my stomach for the ensuing pints of beer well enough, unfortunately. It has taken months of experimentation to figure out the best ‘drink friendly’ foods to begin a night on, and to work out that a starter snack of something small but stodgy then another later on after a couple of drinks, then maybe a THIRD night cap (small) supper is possibly the best way for me to cope with 3-4 (or more) pints. It can get pretty washing machine-like in my tum at times.

(I’d better poke in a disclaimer here: while I am not on a strict calorie controlled diet, I am actively trying to NOT put on MORE weight before I return home to the land of salad days). A heavy meal when drinking is just stupid. Dessert is ridiculous. No-one needs that much food! Well I don’t. I don’t move enough.  And then, if brunch is on for the next day, well that is just really asking for more lard to deposit itself on my rear…

I’ve actually decided against the pie. The shared monster sandwich Johnny and I will have will be quite enough food for the rest of the day.

Until ‘happy hour’.

Take Me Home, Country Loaf I’m in my favourite place for a casual coffee and snack in my local area. I live in a pretty commercial corner of the town, which boasts about 5 Starbucks and one cosy café, one old-school diner, several other franchised café/eateries such as ‘Chipotle’, ‘Panda Express’, ‘Red Robin’ and ‘Subway’ just to name a few.

[toddlazarski]

Milwaukee’s Best Ethnic Eating Strips

Shepherd Express

“Try getting a reservation at Dorsia now!” implores Christian Bale as Patrick Bateman in American Psycho, before some tasteful profanities, and in the middle of raining bloody ax murder upon an unsuspecting Jared Leto. Dorsia, as it happens, is the name of the new restaurant taking over the lease of Mimma’s Cafe. Which means the longstanding pasta emporium, largely credited with establishing the neighborhood as a dining destination in the 80’s and a reminder of the quarter’s Italian heritage, is being replaced by a name inspired by every frat bro’s second favorite movie (behind only Boondock Saints). In the process, a classic, with a perfectly situated mid-strip spot, will join the likes of Cempazuchi, Bosley on Brady, the real Glorioso’s, and, soon, around-the-corner Trocadero, as victims of the mysterious restaurant death panel that might make a long time Milwaukee-observer ponder: what’s happened to Brady Street?

There’s still foot traffic, and really nothing to complain about at Easy Tyger or La Masa. But, looking around, seeing the Whole Foods-ification of Glorioso’s, the rock n’ roll rehash of Angelo’s Lounge, hearing the names of Sinatra-soundtracked Brady Street Sicilian joints of a longgone yesteryear - Cataldo’s, Tarantino’s, Joey’s, Giovanni’s - it’s hard not to get a little nostalgic for the old standby strip. Or, at the very least, the idea of the old standby strip: The kind of immigrant row with whiffs of an old country, like De Niro setting up shop in the Lower East Side in Part 2. With a sense of neighborhoody appetite buzz, single-item specialists, familial business secrets, and many dining options far from Jack’s American Pub (actual name). If you stick to the main drags of Milwaukee food now - monied Milwaukee St, hip KK, new and whitewashed ‘Tosa North Avenue -  it’d be easy to wonder: Did such strips ever even exist?  

It actually takes a bit of poking around the Milwaukee fringes, a bit more gas money. But a little searching can still yield little enclaves, unexpected bands, and classic ethnic eating cluster streets that really should be setting property values.  

6.

2nd and National

Yes, everybody knows about Walker’s Point - Milwaukee’s little Brooklyn. With tattoo-ed chefs and their fetishistic food and low rent former warehouses becoming small plate destinations. There’s Braise and the Noble. The great and nearly indistinguishable 3 M’s (Morel, Meraki, Movida). The friendly, delightfully-greasy, curd-crushing Camino. The delicious and miraculous melting pot that is still Steny’s. The old zapato comfort of Cielito Lindo. But what many may miss, maybe unless you happen to be lucky enough to occasionally await the 15 bus southbound on 1st and Bruce, is the confluence of cooking smells from the Walker’s Point Plaza that is a bit like walking through the halls of an overcrowded apartment building in Queens at supper time. Indian, Mexican, and Greek, side by side, wafting, offer a gastronomic cloud as stinkily delicious as possible. A little fish, some lamb, ghee, fry grease. Despite all the offerings - Cafe India, Taco Bandito, Gyro Palace - being just decent, it’s the American experiment come back to life. Plus, it’s part of a Mobil gas station lot, with a liquor store built right in. It’s actually a magically utilitarian corner, and a manifest of the truest kind of melting pot.    

5.

Layton Avenue

The proximity to the airport makes for apt appetite takeoffs - really toward all points. But one should start with Pho Hai Tuyet, a onetime fast food spot hastily rejiggered as a Vietnamese joint. There’s a bountiful menu, all kinds of pho, noodle and rice dishes, many dishes that start with the letter ‘X’. But there’s only one bahn mi, and only one necessary. It’s certainly the best sandwich of it’s kind, or maybe any kind, in Milwaukee. The big French bready beast is remarkably consistent, always put together with love and a liberal topping hand, with a subtle sauciness, gigantic fresh jalapeno slices, not too much carrot wedgery, and a garden of cilantro. It’s such a construct even mediocre meat would round out the package. Yet the bit-sized pork scrags are always tender, moist, indefinably, piggily perfect every time. Kim’s Thai applies near the same care to chicken. Curries and fried rice dishes abound here, with customized spice levels, and careful crisp all around. But it’s the house specialty - chicken wings stuffed with minced chicken, vegetables, noodles and cilantro, that defies reason with good taste. Or maybe vice versa. Also down the block are Bangkok House, Ramallah Grille, Pho Cali, etc, seemingly for good measure, for helping prove the hypothesis that the best food in most towns resides within a tortilla’s toss of the airport.

There’s Oakland Gyros for something completely different, the greasy standby at once a reminder of college drunken munchies, and, something still exotically Mediterranean. Or, at the same end of the caloric spectrum, but of a time continuum so different it feels cultural, is Nite Owl. It’s a burger joint comfortably situated somewhere between early Eisenhower and American Graffiti, all grease and meaty, onion-y, soft white bun satisfaction. A bit closer to the here and now is Martino’s, the only even semi-legitimate offerer of Chicago’s every-corner Italian Beef sandwich. Like embracing a fear of flying, it’s important to remember you only live once, so, get it dipped - the entire beef and pepper and mozz brick quick-bathed in au jus, then appearing like a glistening meat sponge on your tray. As long as you’re this far off any kind of sensible diet wagon, why not embrace the buttery gluttony of our very own Culver’s? No matter how far your appetite travels, it’s nice to know you can still go home again. And home tastes like stomach-regret - but the worth-it, Grandma’s-griddle kind. 

4.

South 27th Street

You wouldn’t think it, what with the car dealerships and wide boulevard of suburban traffic and glaring hints of Chili’s country, but from Grange-ish down to College, behind the 27th Street scenes exists a lamb-scented mini Middle Eastern row. Al-Yousef boasts two massive spinning shawarma's, a sizzling flattop, and subsequent smells of a back alley food bazaar. The beef kofta kebab is a saucy, spicy Turkish sort of burrito, chock with garlic-y meat, pungent juices, snappy vegetables, and thai hot sauce, the whole thing grilled for good measure and impossible to leave the parking lot without tearing through the butcher paper for. Then there’s Holy Land, with arguably the best hummus in town, and falafel reminiscent of street cart-Istanbul. Amanah Food Market is the spot for Arabic bread and hookah and tobacco needs. And, again, of course, kebabs. If you’re looking to go further, much further, east, you’re already right there. Pho Viet yields massive bowls of luxuriant pho. Or you can get adventurous in your own kitchen. Pacific Produce is next door, and provides the refrigerator-list necessities: rambutan, durian, jackfruit, dragonfruit, frozen frog, duck heads, duck eggs, and, yes, if you want to be boring, fresh fish.

3.

13th & Oklahoma

It says it all that this humble Morgandale strip could lose so much and still offer everything. Recently departed is Christie’s, Jason Christie packing his bags for sunnier pastures, bringing with him meal memories from a place that was nothing short of a miracle of corner bar, mom-is-cooking charm. Also gone are the best asada tacos in town from Los Altos de Jalisco, in the sadly shuttered Mi Super Foods.

But what remains makes amends in quality and quantity. JC Kings, a solid but jokingly-painted taqueria, is maybe most distinct for its ability to combine delicious and disgusting within just a single bite. Try a half, or really a quarter, of any of the gluttonous torta breeds that marry the likes of ham, mozzarrella, pineapple, or, maybe chicken, chorizo, and hot dog? If such a meat massacre isn’t for you, just walk a few blocks north or south. Tortilleria El Sol brings a similar vein of bang for your buck, with massive sacks of delicate corn tortillas for at-home taco forays. Going the other way, El Tucanazo may remain quiet king of that elusive ‘authentic’ label - the colorful counter-and-three-table joint offering a deep menu of rich sauces, tender meat, and enough character that a native of the Mexican state of Hidalgo told us it’s the spot that most reminds of home. There’s also Taqueria Arandas, Mexican run-of-the-mill in the best sense - comforting and bustling, with piping, grease-saturated and cilantro-popped tacos, lots of perfect bases for that ubiquitous southside Milwaukee sauce that is the creamy jalapeno emulsification. When you realize the amount of protein herein, know that Bombay Sweets can level out the most stubborn of no-fun diets, offering strictly vegetarian Indian fare. Two kinds of saag can distract from lack of meat.     

2.

Silver City

The most concentrated sliver on the list, Silver City lets you go from Thai Bar Bar-B-Que, with impossibly juicy chicken, meatballs, curries, volcano sauce spice, Milwaukee’s best pho bowls of deep mid-winter comfort, to Fiesta Garibaldi’s Chicken Palace - in just a block’s time. The latter is a shabby, corner, yellow-coated Mexican fast-food joint, with a logo bearing slight resemblance to Gus’ Pollos Hermanos in Breaking Bad. Not the spot you’d expect one of the only salsa bars in town, with five distinct varieties and three chopped pepper and onion options. Chicken is the namesake protein specialty, and it’s offered every way. But the most intriguing delivery option is the tlayuda, essentially, a Mexican pizza, not readily found about town, here folded up in it’s own crisped, crunchy flat bread crust, with melty cheese, avocado and every tangible south of the border satisfaction Taco Bell looks like it has on commercials when you’re drunk. Wash it all down with a mangonada, and wonder why you’ve never heard that word before. Or how beautiful it is to combine mango sorbet with tamarind sauce, lime, and spicy chilli powder.    

For the less pepper-inclined, there’s the Puerto Rican La Isla across the street. But the area is most notably Asian forward. Along with Thai BBQ is Thai Lotus, Bamboo, Vientiane. Instead of your usual crab rangoon, these are the spots to try duck, to try lad, to try larb. Speaking of which, there may be no greater gastronomical disparity than the off-putting sound (aka ‘larp’, aka ‘laab’), unappealing description (it’s meat salad), and the delicious reality. The national dish of Laos busts with cilantro, mint, lime, green onions, and big spice. And, at Vientiane at least, tripe.     

When it’s all over, let the friendly blues joint Mamie’s offer up a domestic brew as digestif. Or, right your Shanghai-ed intestinal ship with a three-buck cheeseburger.

1.

Lincoln Avenue

It’s almost too much: between 5th and 20th a gritty narrow strip deliciously echoes San Francisco’s Mission, Chicago’s Pilsen or Little Village, and at once boasts the carnitas and top notch salsas of Don Lucho; the maritime aesthetic lunacy and seafood fare of both Fiesta Garibaldi and La Canoa; the massively comforting papusas of El Salvador; porky takeout Cuban sandwiches from El Rincon Criollo; the old school, family-style Mexican diner and professional Mariachi-style karaoke singers at Tres Hermanos; the churro, bollillo and holiday-time tamales of Lopez Bakery; another Arandas location; another La Salsa location; the occasional food truck or two. At 20th, where you’d hope to maybe arrive at some sort of Pepto dealership, you’ll only find the best of them all, El Tsunami. The tiny new spot with the open kitchen slings some of the deepest salsas, maybe the juiciest pastor, the most consummate of Mexican grandmother sauces - Veracruzana, diabla, mojo de ajo. Get any on a whole snapper, filet, shrimp, octopus. Then just sit and spoon the fallout with chips, as the waitress take a carcass away, and you await a stomach-settling horchata to go, giving thanks to be part of the country not so inexplicably afraid of the other.       

Like all good food tours, this is the one to leave an open mind pondering, maybe recalibrating pending and future real estate searches. Or at least it’s a happy, non-healthy, full-gut reminder that it’s fine to leave Brady and the bunch, for the usual drags to become, to un-become, to re-become, what they may. The curious and inspired can alway drive a few blocks west, get out of normal routes and big-deal new openings, embrace the other side of the wall, and the real buffet of options available.