It's sad that I'm still doing Restaurant Week shit from almost three weeks ago, but it's really pathetic that I have a good five posts prior to that still needing edited and posted.  I'm sure you'll find a way to deal with it, Chubs.

So, our first RW experience was at Dublin Pub, and was mostly assy.  For the big-baller event, I wanted to go to Sunrise Cafe. (I always *try* to go The Winds, but am never impressed with their menu.)
Despite the fish offerings, Mr. FvF took one look at Sunrise's menu and he was all, "Ewwwww, that's bourgie.  Do not want!"  Luckily, my homegirl Carly was into it, so she and I made it a gal-date.  

We both ordered the same appetizer - Toasted Sesame Flatbreads with Caramelized Onions, and the same entree - Garlic-Stuffed Wagyu Kobe Sirloin (mid rare), with polenta and roasted carrots.  The starter came out quickly and looking great, but it was astonishingly a little too much onion.

Now, considering that I can barely get caramelized onions into recipes because I stand over the stove and eat them with a fork, that's a really bold statement.  I will say they were caramelized perfectly, though.  Sweet as jam.  What I actually liked more was some sort of bacon-infused butter that was in the center of the plate.  I ended up scraping off 90% of the onions and smearing it with the pig-buttery goodness, and that took it up a notch.  The flatbread was more like a really weak pita, too - not exactly the thin & crispy goodness that I had imagined.  

We were both such Motormouth Mabelles that we weren't even halfway through our apps before out entrees were on the table.

Normally during RW, you get a 3+ course meal for around $20.  The price has always followed the year, so logically, this year it should be $20.11.  However, the powers that be decided to change it to $25.11, which a lot of people are pretty peeved about.  While I completely sympathize with the rising cost of food, a 25% hike is a bit much all at once.  So, for five extra bucks, per person, I'm looking for something pretty high end.  Hell, for some of the participants this was an all around price hike.  You could probably eat a two, maybe even a three course meal not even ordering from the Restaurant Week menu.  But, when you're splitting the five on dinner for two, it doesn't seem like such a gouge.  Dublin Pub had by far the most expansive menu options for their two-fer, so we met my sister and her fella there Wednesday night for dinner.

They got there at 5 and grabbed a table, and said there wasn't a soul in the place besides them.  But, by the time we arrived just a few minutes after 6, it was uncomfortable packed.  Dub Pub has really small, cramped booths anyway - so when they're all full and people have coats hanging everywhere, it's a pain in the ass.  To boot, we had a semi-shared booth with some of the most uppity people I've ever seen.  While we tried to politely pile into our booth, they huffed, scowled and scrunched together like we were carrying the great plague.

The onion rings had a great batter on them, but they used a really potent white onion, rendering them almost inedible.  The corned beef sliders were pretty good, but the addition of herbed cheese (something like Boursin, I assume) really helped them out.

Our entrees were taking ages to come out, so we decided to have a smoke.  There are a few magical things about leaving the table and/or lighting a cigarette that makes food appear magically.  Even though the RW menu notes that the sirloin is only 6 ounces, we all chuckled at the meat-to-potato ratio when my sister and I got our plates.
I had to remind our server that we were supposed to get side salads with our meal, and I was kind of tired of fooling with him. So, I asked the  much more attentive bus boy for steak knives when I realized our server hadn't brought us any.  The sirloin entrees both came with an herbed butter that was good on both the steak and potatoes.  Considering what it lacked in size, the steaks were well-seasoned and cooked nicely.

The gents both ordered the Pub Burger - a burger topped with the Pub Fries (steak fried with bacon and white wine cream sauce) that helped make the Pub a notable eatery.  And arteries be damned, more fries were served alongside the burger.  This was really great timing considering Mr. FvF was having his blood drawn for a health risk assessment at work the next day. High cholesterol, ahoy!  The boys both said there burgers were good, just not remarkable. The famous white wine cream sauce was almost absent from the "pub fries" part of the burger as well, which disappointed them.


Once we finished our meals, our server came back and asked us if we were thinking about having dessert.  Yet again, I had to remind him that dessert was part of the meal we had ordered.  It should have been brought to the table with little more than asking if we were ready for it.  Unfortunately, I don't have a photo of the "Must Be 21 Sundae" because my phone batteries were too run to take a flash pic. Just trust me when I say that booze, cinnamon ice cream, chocolate drizzle and whipped cream are all very good things.  We were pretty full, though, so no one finished theirs.

The food wasn't bad, but it certainly wasn't outstanding, and DubPub has some serious service issues.  The big thing that's saving them here is the bang we got for our buck during Restaurant Week.  I won't be too eager to head back, though.

This is a piss-poor cell phone photo that doesn't even close to doing the meal justice.  The potatoes were whipped into submission and buttery as the day is long, and the green beans were nice and garlicky. But the steak - oh, sweet sassy molassey.  I started out telling myself that this was the best sirloin I've ever had (by far my favorite cut of steak, anyhow), but this was hands-down the best steak I've ever had in my life.  Normally I like my prime cuts to be kept simple - just salt, pepper, and garlic - no fancy glazes or reductions.  But, this whiskey glaze was an elite exception to the rule.  Smokey and sweet, it complimented the steak so perfectly.  I've never seen a cut of beef cooked this well in my life.  A flawless bright, warm red all the way through, and practically fork tender.

Mr. FvF had the pan-fried grouper, which I finally found time to ask him about after I finished dry-humping my plate (you can stop wondering what my in-laws think of me now).  He said it was top notch, as well - and he is now officially a panko convert.  Funny thing, he's lived on or near a coast for the better part of his life, and never really ate seafood until he moved to Ohio.  I guess everything that comes out of West Virginia is backwards in one way or another.


Can you believe I went to a winery and I'm talking more about the food than the booze?  Well, that part was amazeballs, too.  Ertel's specializes in heavily fruit flavored wines, which isn't always up my alley.  I like some noticeable currant and berry notes to my reds, and the occasional super-apple-y riesling, but if I liked the taste of Arbor Mist and Boone's Farm, I would have just stayed in junior high.  All of Ertel's fruit-based wines somehow toe that very fine line between wine your white zin-drinking mom would like and the $20 Pinot Noir that you only buy on special occasions.  The only had two bottles of blackberry left for the season, so I got all up on that before some other sucker could.  I mean, I didn't drink all two bottles with dinner.  It's Christmas, and Jesus was watching.

Oh, and although it's usually the last thing on my mind there, service at this place is always top shelf.  I think if I asked them to chew my food up and spit it back into my mouth like a mother bird, they'd do it.

Ma and Pa FvF were nice enough to treat us to dinner Friday night, because they're better than most people. Pa doesn't care to venture out to the North side for Old Hickory, so his pick for steak is always Longhorn on West Dorothy Lane. I'm not normally a big proponent of chains, but I've gone to Longhorn several times over the last few years and never had bad food OR bad service.

The salads were plentiful and super tasty. Ma and Pa got the seasonal strawberry salad, which consisted of mixed field greens with strawberries, grapes, mandarin oranges, candied pecans, red onion, feta, and raspberry vinaigrette. My Caesar salad was also delicious, but one bite of theirs and I wished that I could take back my original order.


We all ordered different versions of their Renegade sirloin. Ma and I got the 8 oz (mine mid-rare and hers mid-well) and the fellas for the 12 ouncers (one medium and one mid-rare). In all honesty, two of the steaks ordered medium and under were the slightest bit overcooked, but not to the point of sending back. I still got a nice, solid medium, while Mr. FvF's - ordered the same way, was a perfect mid-rare. They were still delicious and perfectly edible, so we saw no point in sending them back and waiting for another steak.

We did mention the inconsistency in the steaks to our server, who was very apologetic (and very attentive and sweet all-around), but we insisted we didn't want anything to be done about it, except maybe passing a word along to the chef.

I should also note that we arrived right in the middle of Friday evening dinner rush, but didn't have to wait for a table. It was plenty busy, but the servers still took their time with each table and didn't make you feel rushed.

I do, however, have one big beef with the place that has zero to do with the food, but it really, really creases me. I'm a stylish gal who always likes to wear cute shoes. Anyone who knows me knows that you'll more easily get eaten alive by bears than see my in public without heels on. I've been walking in nothing but them since I was about 16, and it's an art I've mastered. Hell, I can even run in them. The floors at Longhorn Steakhouse are incredibly slippery, and my greatest foe. I don't know if it's the finish of the floors or a wax they use on them, but if you're wearing anything but sneakers or flip-flops, your feet will roll around underneath you like Fred Flintstone until you're assholes over elbows in the middle of their dining room floor. It's so bad, in fact, that unless I'm seated right near the ladies' room (which, ew - no thank you), I won't even make the trek no matter how bad I have to go. I'd feel a little guilty driving to another steakhouse in the Bugatti Veyron that I obtained by suing them for crippling me for life.

So, major point deduction for that, and half a point off for two out of four steaks being slightly over-cooked.

Mongolian Beef - specifically from North China on Far Hills Ave - is something I crave more than is natural for someone not suffering a hormonal imbalance. Like a lot of folks, we're on a limited dining out budget, which means you have to learn to make the stuff you love at home...and hopefully just as well, if not better.

I found a recipe that pretty well mimics the dish that I hold so dear pretty well. Aside from having to carve up an entire flank steak, it's pretty easy, too. Here's what you'll need:

1 c. vegetable oil
1 pound flank steak
1/4 c. cornstarch
1 cup total, chopped green onions and yellow onions

I'd attempted chicken fried steak a while back, and it didn't quite come out the way I planned, so I threw in the towel. Considering it's Mr. FvF's favorite, though, I had to give it another whirl. On the advice of my best gal, the Almighty Lando, I picked up some minute steaks, made a quick egg bath, and tossed some salt, pepper and Mrs. Dash into some flour, and away I went.

All in all, they turned out well, but I encountered a different problem than in my first failure at this dish. Instead of the breading lumping up and coming off all over the place (double dipping is the key there - turn once in the flour mix, once in the eggy bath, then again in the flour), the actually steak started coming apart on me. Only one, though - and I took a picture of that one, because it's the mister's plate and his plate always looks better because it's fuller than mine.

Anyhow, once you have them coated, toss them in a hot, hot cast iron skillet for about 3 minutes on each side, or until the breading browns a bit and gets all crispy and delightful.


The real star of the show, never to be outdone, were the smashed red-skinned garlic rosemary potatoes. Maybe someday I'll be not-lazy enough to tell you how to make those.

I've been lending my awesomeness to Chicago-based ManBQue for several months now, and it's time that shit gets real. In just a few weeks, ManBQue Godfather Jesse Valenciana and his crew of meat-centric goons will descend upon the Gem City to welcome anyone and everyone with a Y chromosome to enjoy three of the four things that men love most: meat, beer, and rock & roll.

ManBQue is a club, but by no stretch are they elitist. The main rules are very simple - you bring enough meat and beer to share. The grill must be in use at all times. No less than four different kinds of meat are to be served. You can read the rest, including the humiliation of vegetarians and required swearing here.

The first Dayton ManBQue will be held at a private residence (at most MBQs are), so please respond to me here, or to the email address on the above ad to RSVP and get more info.
If you're a chef or consider yourself a grill master (and have the chops to prove it), we'd love to have you attend as a judge in our grilling competition.

I'll stress, as redundant as it may seem, that ManBQue is only for men. Sorry, ladies. The only reason I'll be in proximity is because I've donated plenty of my time, resources and my own home to this organization, so I've earned my keep. Plus, I get to wear a mustache!
That aside, Dayton ManBQue hopes to grow in numbers and start hosting events at local eateries, same as the founding Chicago crew does now.

If you're a dude, and you love to grill (beginners are always welcome!), you need to get involved with ManBQue.

Also, if you think the above artwork is bad ass - which, of course, you do - contact Mr. FvF at therustyshackles@gmail.com

Pretty soon, Dayton is going to have a ManBQue chapter to call its own. The official kick off will be in June or July, but this weekend Mr. FvF and I decided to host a CoedBQue (read the rules, totally allowed on weekends) to let some folks try out their recipes.
GK served up some fabulous Buffet burgers, stuffed with beer-can peppers and onions and smothered in pepper jack cheese...
Hoeflich grilled up some ribeyes that "fell off a truck," marinated in bacon fat and garlic...

and Evil Josh had the brilliant idea of stuffing skirt steak with apples, smoked mozzarella and crushed almonds.
Even though all of that was tough to top, the Mister's Double Buffalo Sliders stole the show. Even though I'm sure you've already gorged on your share of holiday meats, you're going to want these inside you. Waddle on over to ManBQue for the recipe!

Let me first dispel the myth that Hickory BBQ on Brown Street near UD and Old Hickory on North Main are related. They're not. I'm sure Hickory BBQ has delicious food, based on the line that frequently goes out their door, but I've never set foot in the place. Old Hickory BBQ on Main, however, is our special occasion dining preference. Mr. FvF had a birthday on Thursday, so I took him there to get his fill of ribs, along with my sister and her fella, and our friends Josh & Carla.

The service was top-notch from the moment we got inside. We were seated at a nice, roomy table, and our waitress, Stacy, took our drink order and went over the specials with everyone. She quickly brought out our drinks and some bread baskets with butter and asked if anyone had questions about the menu. I inquired about the difference between the steak fries and broasted potatoes, because I couldn't remember. Stacy explained it to me, then said they started ordering the broasted potatoes pre-cut since we'd last been in, but that they were actually crispier, and much better - and if I didn't like them, she'd bring me something else. Half the table ordered ribs, the other half ordered steak.



Most everyone also ordered salads, as well. The salad itself isn't that impressive, but I really order it just for the house dressing (a sweet vinaigrette), which I would bathe in. I had went on & on about the steaks, and how they were like "meat butter," because they're so well seasoned and any fat to be found would just melt in your mouth. Needless to say, everyone agreed and was very impressed. For the first time ever, my steak wasn't cooked an absolutely perfect mid-rare, but I dare not send it back. Two reasons - a.) it was still magically delicious even on the heavier side of medium and b.) sending food back at Old Hickory would feel like telling your dad he overcooked your steak after he'd slaved over the grill all day. In fact, I still enjoyed the steak SO much that they won't even lose a half spork for this. To boot, this minor snag was the only problem amongst the six dinners that came to the table. Everyone raved about their food, even the meat snobs and picky eaters.

I was very happy that Stacy had steered me toward the new broasted taters, because they were to DIE for. The closest comparison I can conjure would be the Space Spuds from Woody's (RIP) - but the breading was much crunchier.

Just as I thought we couldn't handle so much as looking at more food, our very perceptive server overheard us mention that it was Mr. FvF's birthday and brought him a piece of turtle cheesecake, on the house. She was also smart enough to know that I'd want some too, and brought two forks. Score!

I'll argue with anyone that these are the best steaks in town. The mister loves their ribs, but I haven't eaten enough ribs in Dayton to dare say they're the best - but they ARE super tasty. Say what you will about fancy joints like Flemings, or equally old Dayton haunts like the Pine Club - but if I want a perfect steak (and don't want to take out a second mortgage to get it), I'll go for Ol' Hick every time.

Everyone likes steak, and everyone likes pizza. Unless you're a communist, then you probably only like food that's of someone else's labor, and free for the taking. In fact, you're probably a dumpster diver, which means you never get steak or pizza, because only a retard would throw those out.
these to delightful food groups encompass the two most-craved items in my house, so I figured, why not get them together and see what kind of hot action ensues?

For the recipe, more photos and info on communism, follow your nose to Man-B-Que.

I decided to use another bottle of my graciously gifted POM juice to try one of the recipes from their website. Since I'm not fancy and don't tend to make pan-seared duck breast at home, I opted to use it in a reduction for steaks instead. For more information about making reductions, check out this instructional video.

Pomegranate and Red-Wine Reduction

• 2/3 cup POM Wonderful 100% Pomegranate Juice
• 3 cloves minced garlic, or 1 1/2 teaspoons pre-minced garlic
• 2-3 tablespoons olive or vegetable oil
• 1/4 cup dry red wine
• 1/4 cup water
• 1 tablespoon cornstarch
• 1 teaspoon crushed dried basil
• 1/2 teaspoon crushed dried thyme
• 2 teaspoons molasses
• 1/2 teaspoon salt

Heat oil over medium in a sauce pan and combine all ingredients. Bring to a boil, then reduce to low and simmer for 5 minutes and set aside. Cook your steaks on your preferred method, and then pour it on.

Unfortunately, I overcooked the steaks like it was my job. We both like mid-rare meat and the first time I checked them, they were practically blue inside. I let them broil (in a cast iron skillet) for about another 2 minutes, and they ended up well done. Go figure. At least it made for a pretty picture! Plus, it only calls for 1/4 cup of wine, which means you have a hefty size chef's bttle left over for yourself. If your mister/missus doesn't drink red wine, even bigger bonus.

My steaks: not my best work.
The reduction: absolutely aces. We decided to seal up the leftovers and use them on chicken later this week, which we'll probably be enjoying in some of the kick-ass looking low-carb garlic & herb tortillas I picked up at Jungle Jim's last night.

This weekend, Mr. FvF and I checked out Logan's, compliments of a gift card I'd won at a Chamber of Commerce event earlier in the week. I wasn't expecting much, and they basically delivered.

We arrived just before dinner rush, right around 5pm - and out of all of the booths and tables with ample space, we were seated at the world's smallest booth. I know they were prepping for dinner rush and expected bigger parties to take up those spots, plus I knew it would mean we wouldn't be seated too close to screaming kids, so I didn't complain. It took so long for our server to come over and greet us and take our drink order, we'd already had plenty of time to peruse the menu and load up on the free peanuts when she got there. I ordered the Onion Brewski sirloin with a house salad and broccoli, and the mister opted for the 10 oz sirloin and carbalicious sides of mac & cheese and french fries (shit he doesn't get at home).

Our food came out pretty quickly, since we both ordered our cuts mid-rare. When I cut into the corner, I was pleased to see that it was squishy and oozing, not overcooked. Mine came out on a fajita plate - onions-a-sizzlin' - which I was excited about until I remembered how science works. We'll get to that later, but the whole plating issue was kind of a nightmare.

The plate was pretty small, and as-is, really left me no place to cut my steak. I moved my broccoli dish to give me some wiggle room and move the onion straws so I could get down to business. I'm a pretty slow eater, and I like to enjoy a good steak at a reasonable pace. At home or anywhere else, this wouldn't present a problem. At Logan's, however, that sizzling plate continued to cook the meat, and by the last four bites, I was gnawing on well-done steak like a cow chewing cud. Mr. FvF's sirloin came out on a regular ol' plate, so of course, he had no issues with his and it was perfectly cooked and well-seasoned. He only gave the side dishes a 3 out of 5, though. My sides were good, not exceptional. The house salad actually came with more than just iceberg - carrots, tomatoes, bacon crumbles and cheese. The broccoli was steamed and soft, but not mushy. Our server was okay, but didn't knock my socks off. I got busted taking photos of the food, and three managers came out to ask us how everything was before you could say "plating fail." Mr. FvF thought maybe there were rules against photographing the food and we'd end up in Logan's Roadhouse jail.

They earned a few bonus points for the following things:

• Letting me throw shit on their floor
• Potato rolls
• A very strange mural that depicts a Patrick Swayze-esque character seemingly busting a load on the farmer's daughter.

Remember, kids - everything you need to know, you can learn from the movie Roadhouse. In the end, this restaurant's food and service were a lot like putting an elevator in an outhouse - they just don't make sense.

2.5 out of 5 sporks