TBG Eats: Coolhaus Ice Cream Sandwiches

Current Weight: 175.0 lbs.

Me?!  I think a BETTER question is where the hell have YOU been? 

It's only been two, three, four, five, six months since my last post.  OK, six-and-a-HALF months.  But, I have a good excuse!  It's a LONG story.  Longer than the time I almost died.  Longer than one of my travel diaries.  It would make for a GREAT multi-part blog post, which is to say...that's all I can say. 

BUT...!  The deleted scenes/lost chapters would've included: 

...an especially awful bout of food poisoning from a certain fast food restaurant's "two tacos for 99 cents".  Hard to believe my stomach -- forged from steel --  couldn't handled obscenely greasy gray mystery meat that's asphyxiated with processed American cheese and last week's wilted lettuce.  Consequently, for several months, I lost my one remaining mutant superpower: my affinity for ANY fast food.  Oh, maybe I'm being overly dramatic.  Here's some toned-down imagery of the feeling. 

...oral surgery!  Last December, I underwent a two-hour grafting procedure along my gum line.  The day before, I met with my dentist -- an Indian woman who I've been seeing for almost 15 years.  As she cautioned me about the short-term limitations I'd endure immediately after the surgery, she dropped this bit of inadvertent, heavily-accented awesome: 

"And, you won't be able to eat meat on the bone for a few months. You know, like...what it is you people eat?  Ribs? You won't be able to eat that." 

During the procedure, the local anesthetic wore off about halfway through.  As my dentist explained: 

"We will give you another dose, but we can't stop the procedure.  We've already exposed the cadaver tissue.  I'm sorry, but you're going to be very uncomfortable for a few minutes." 

 

 

HOW uncomfortable?  Take your gum line and physically tear it away from your teeth.  That's not a hypothetical, kids.  I couldn't eat solid food for almost six weeks and my weight dropped from 175 lbs. on December 5th (the day of the surgery) to 151 lbs. in mid-January.  On the plus side, only HALF of my face turned into a grotesque mess!  Look...I'm not saying I agree with the insane, homicidal tendencies of Two-Face. But, now I understand how super-villains get their start. 

...Little League baseball!  My last TBG post was a recap of the start of my 9(!)-year-old son's spring season.  Believe it or not, our team made it to the championship game, but fell two runs and one inning short from winning it all.  It was the most fun I've ever had coaching one of Jalen's teams. 

 

 

 

Ooh, before I forget, J would like you ALL to know that, as a hitter, he led our team in walks AND as a pitcher, he was tied for the team lead in wins.  Trust me...he kept track.  Meticulously.  He even made the postseason 10U All Stars.  However, J's stubborn refusal to bend the brim of his baseball caps legitimately undermines ALL of his accomplishments. 

Unfortunately, Jalen's all-star run coincided with my favorite TBG time of the year: the San Diego Fair.  For four straight weeks; J's team was either practicing, scrimmaging or playing a game.  And, for four straight weeks; I was missing out on deep-fried cookie dough, Krispy Kreme sloppy joes and waffle dogs.  (Welcome, new readers!  Yes, I used "and" instead of "or" two sentences ago.  Y'see...the food at the San Diego Fair is kind of a big deal around this lightly-read blog.  Get caught up!  We'll wait!) 

A-a-a-and, that about covers the past 200 days or so. 

Up until two weeks ago!  M'man Coach Andy called for one of our infrequent youth baseball gossip sessions. But, before we could begin sharing our scouting reports on up-and-coming eight-year-olds or commence with yet another mock draft of best-looking mothers in our Little League ("Why do you ALWAYS select your wife in the first round, Aaron?", Andy sometimes often ALWAYS taunts.) my mind was about to be blown: 

"Have you seen the new ice cream sandwiches at Baron's?  Chocolate chip cookies with candied bacon ice cream. They are..." 

I don't remember much of our conversation after Andy strung together "candied" and "bacon" and "ice cream", consecutively.  I do remember his comment left under a picture I posted to my Facebook page of the actual ice cream sandwich: 

"That didn't take long." 

The ice cream sandwiches are from Coolhaus -- an outfit that began as a gourmet food truck nearly five years ago in Los Angeles.  Today, they have nearly a dozen trucks dotting LA, New York City, Austin and Miami, along with storefronts in Pasadena and Culver City.  They've recently introduced a pre-packaged line of their signature high-end ice cream sandwiches nationwide. 

Let's see if I still remember how to write these.

 

 

 

Chocolate Chip Cookie with Brown Butter Candied Bacon Ice Cream -- The candied bacon component ensured that this would be my first Coolhaus choice.  As obnoxiously ubiquitous as bacon has become, it doesn't get nearly enough love for its versatility in desserts.  Surprisingly, though, it's the cookie that's the best thing here.  Brown sugar is one of my favorite flavors -- whether we're talking gastronomic or marital(!) -- and the cookie carries a sweet, but tempered richness.  The soft and chewy texture is markedly better than your typical convenience store cookie sandwich, as well.  The ice cream is solid and it's a damn fine accompaniment with the cookies, but the "perfect bite" of sweet and savory, brown sugar and bacon only occurred in every third our fourth chomp.  The candied bacon was good enough to stand on its own and I found myself wishing there was more of it here.  Grade: 4 (out of 5)

 

 

 

Oatmeal Raisin Cookie with Baked Apple Pie Ice Cream -- In the interest of full disclosure, I should come clean and admit that oatmeal cookies are my favorite cookies in the whole wide world.  Similarly, whenever I'm out to eat, my go-to dessert is pretty much anything with warm apples.  (Longtime readers know Mrs. Bootleg prefers crème brûlée or tiramisu.  No, I don't know why she hates America.)  Anywho...this was pretty much magnificent in every way.  The mouthfeel of the chewy, brown sugar/buttery oats belied its previous residency in a commercial freezer.  Paired with the not-too-tart, not-too-sweet apples from the cinnamon-dusted ice cream, this one hit all of Aaron's taste targets.  500 out of 5? Oh, I'mma 'bout to go there...   Grade: 500

 

 

 

Vegan Ginger Molasses Cookie with Mango Saffron Sorbet -- Prepare your "shocked n' amazed" faces, people.  This one's an acquired taste.  My wife would have NONE of this tomfoolery with her taste buds.  Here's a 10-second reenactment of her 10-minute reaction after taking one -- and only one -- bite.  Separately, these aren't my favorite flavors, but together...they kinda-sorta work.  The spiciness of the cookie is cut way back by the sorbet.  The taste of mango is strong, but the ginger and molasses linger at the back end of each bite.  The end result is akin to a palate cleanser with a bit of a kick.   Grade: 2.5

 

 

 

Snickerdoodle Cookie with Salted Caramel Ice Cream -- For the entirety of his young life, my son would only eat chocolate chip cookies.  WITHOUT walnuts.  Weirdo.  If we're including store-bought, he'd ignore Oreos, Newtons and Nutter Butters in favor of Chips Ahoy, Chips Deluxe and Famous Amos.  Recently, however, he's been seen dating cookies outside his taste.  Snickerdoodles are his current infatuation and the Coolhaus version is soo-POIB.  The cinnamon/sugar balance is perfect and the granules are a subtly outstanding textural contrast with the ice cream.  However, I wish the ice cream's saltier notes carried over.  The deep caramel flavor and sweetness from the cookies could've used a few salty swipes, but I suppose I'm picking nits.  My son obliterated the half I gave him.  I think Coolhaus has comfortably captured the pre-adolescent African-American market.  Grade: 4.5 

My friend Smitty -- who lives near Pasadena -- has told me wonderful tales of Coolhaus' Maker's Mark-flavored "Manhattan" ice cream.  The Coolhaus website hints at a "fried chicken and waffle" ice cream (brown butter‍ maple ice cream w/ maple candied chicken skins & caramelized waffles) coming soon. 

Road trip?

 

Road trip.

TBG Eats: Oggi's Pizza and Brewing Company

Current Weight: 172.2 lbs.

Oggi's Menu

Would you believe me if I told you there was some pretty good pizza sold in San Diego?

My personal favorite is the thin crust at DiCresenzo's*. Mrs. Bootleg and I have been known to annihilate a large pié (...am I saying that right? I presume it's pronounced "pee-AY" like the erstwhile Baltimore Orioles outfielder...) in a single night. Well deserved honorable mentions go to Borrelli's and Bronx Pizza. But, don't take my word for it. Just look at the Italian surnames and New York boroughs referenced in the pizzerias' names! That's the kind of quality most Californians can practically pronounce!

* -- The original owners of DiCresenzo's sold their restaurant a few years ago. The new owners turned the place into a Chicago(?!)-themed spot, introducing deep dish pizza and those inedible celery salt, dill pickle and sport pepper hot dogs to the menu. The quality of the thin crust pizza fell WAY off when the new owners first took over, but they've improved the product to about 80% of the original. It's still a pretty steep decline, but it speaks to how superb their thin crust used to be. Now, it's just "very good".

On an unrelated note, can ANYONE make a compelling case for placing a dill pickle spear on a hot dog?

Oggi's Pizza and Brewing Company is a regional restaurant with 15 locations in southern California and one in Arizona. Oggi's (OH-gees) is arguably the most popular sports bar-y spot in San Diego, serving up ubiquitous platters of pizzas, wings and burgers alongside an assortment of macro and microbrews. It's my eight-year-old son Jalen's favorite restaurant and a ridiculously frequent postgame location after our Little League adventures.

Oddly enough, I'm not all that crazy about their pizza.

My son could eat their pepperoni pizzas morning, noon and night -- which he might've actually done on the one occasion we came home with leftovers. I think their entrée-sized pizzas, for the most part, are decent, but uninteresting. Oggi's "thin crust" -- which my son prefers -- is just a flatter version of their regular hand-tossed crust, offering little in the way of crunch or char. Their pepperoni pizza is straight from the kid-friendly, casual dining handbook with inoffensive flavors that are easily accessible to the casual palate -- cheese, sauce and salt.

Oggi's "Field Goal" is the best of their specialty pizzas. Topped with blackened chicken breast, sweet corn, cilantro, green onions, roasted garlic and gouda...it would undoubtedly be met with disdain from pizza aficionados, but the subtle harshness from the blackened chicken are softened by the corn's natural sweetness. The whole thing is carried by a mildly spicy "Santa Fe" sauce (Albuquerque's equally bold-flavored brother) and a small garden's worth of garlic.

The Margherita pizza is decent -- a bright union of olive oil, fresh basil and Roma tomatoes. Unfortunately, most of Oggi's other specialty pizzas are more gimmick than balance. The barbecue chicken ("World Series") pizza is overpowered by the sticky sweetness of the BBQ sauce on top. And, the buffalo chicken ("Slam Dunk") pizza is covered with a combustible wing sauce that's almost obnoxiously hot. Although, it's listing in the menu includes the words "...served with ranch dip...", so it's not like anyone's expectations should've been elevated.

Oggi's does feature four appetizer-sized thin-crust pizzas that are actually better than most of their regular pizzas. The "Speedway" includes an uncomplicated combination of sausage, peppers and olives, while the "Marathon" is a veggie offering with zucchini, tomatoes, garlic and a superb pickled punch of artichoke hearts.

My Oggi's go-to food is usually one of their monthly off-menu specials. And, from that list, I'll always order the sandwich or burger since they're served with their fantastic lightly-battered French fries. Last fall, Oggi's featured a turkey and cranberry Monte Cristo that was on the short list of best sandwiches I've ever eaten (...at least once a week, from November to New Year's Day). More recently, their bacon-bruschetta chicken sandwich was a mishmash of muddled flavors that even the bacon couldn't save. (My wife makes the best bruschetta in the black community and pairing it with bacon seems like an abomination. I should've trusted my gut.)

From their regular selections, the "Baja 500" chicken sandwich has a wee bit of a kick from the roasted jalapeño peppers and Cajun aioli sauce. The "Matador" burger is the red meat equivalent with identical toppings, but a little less flavor as the burger is seemingly always cooked "well" despite my repeated "medium" pleas.

Oggi's features a selection of their own beers. I've had them all and my favorite is probably the Sunset Amber Ale. It pairs well with most of their menu -- or at least the areas of the menu that I frequent -- and benefits from not being a heavy accompaniment to all of the starches that are served up. Oggi's also has a surprisingly strong -- albeit small -- rotation of other beers. In recent months, I've had some fabulous Scotch ales and my first experience with the hyper-popular Pliny the Elder -- far and away the best IPA I've ever tasted.

The dessert menu includes some beer-inspired offerings. Oggi's carrot cake and molten chocolate cake are flavored with their own brews. But, my son's absolute favorite dessert in the whole wide world (his words, not mine) is the Black Magic Stout Brownie:

A rich double chocolate fudge brownie that has been baked with Oggi’s Black Magic Stout. The brownie is drizzled with a chocolate ganache that has also been flavored with Black Magic Stout. Served warm with ice cream.

There aren't many other dessert that can elicit reactions of dorky (thumbs up!) and ecstasy. And, maybe some "this hot fudge burns my tongue like a thousand suns" reaction, too.

TBG Eats: Cafasso Meatball Company

Current Weight: 168.0 lbs.

Some of you might've heard that I manage my eight-year-old son's Little League team. Two weeks ago -- after our squad gave up 20 runs in a humiliating mutilation at the hands of the Padres -- my wife approached me with a proposal for postgame dinner plans. Her timing, as always, was impeccable.

Our team's five-game undefeated streak had been snapped slaughtered. I'd just completed a half-hearted pep talk to the team in which we collectively marveled at the symmetry of surrendering five runs in each of the first four innings. In the dugout, my son and I were the only survivors in a sea of strewn sunflower seed exoskeletons and empty sports drink recyclables. (And, our conversation wasn't doing much for my mood.)

Eating out as a family? Why that's a much better idea than my preferred after-a-loss locale -- sitting in front of our open garage door, sipping pity beer while plotting lineup-demotion punishments for a few individual players.

Mrs. Bootleg suggested a restaurant called Cafasso Meatball Company. According to their website, "CMC" was established in June 2011. It's in the Carmel Mountain section of San Diego -- ten minutes south of Stately Bootleg Manor and an awfully pretentious appellation for a neighborhood that's dissected by strip malls, chain restaurants and big box stores. (To be fair, the homes are spectacular. I'm partial to the ones that abut BevMo.)

We arrived just after 6:00 PM. The restaurant was empty, which made me feel slightly less self-conscious about the three-and-a-half hours of "outdoors-on-an-80-degree-day" that my son and I were conspicuously smuggling under our clothes. CMC's menu is posted over the front counter on three flat screens. It's a neat little high-tech touch, I suppose, but as a newcomer, I felt a bit rushed with the cashier standing at the ready.

My wife ordered spaghetti (with two meatballs) because she ALWAYS orders spaghetti at restaurants that are even tangentially Italian. My son ordered pizza because he ALWAYS orders pizza at restaurants that sell pizza. I ordered the "CMC Special" -- choice of three meatballs, sauce, cheese and garlic bread -- because I (occasionally) blog about things and the name of the meal is begging for an "Oh, yeah? We'll see about that!" anonymous response.

I went with two of the beef and bacon meatballs and one spicy beef and pork. The simple, but appealing presentation was appreciated. I'm sure someone from the five boroughs could lecture us all on meatball protocol, but the look of the three meat spheres in a miniature serving dish -- topped with dollops of sauce and perfectly-placed provolone -- raised my expectations. Unfortunately, the food fell short.

The beef and bacon meatballs appeared to be overcooked -- a darkened exterior giving way to surprisingly dry meat on the inside. The only bacon characteristic I could find was a pervasive saltiness. The spicy beef and pork meatball was the better of the two, but the spiciness wasn't especially pronounced and the pork didn't contribute anything either texturally or in flavor.

The sauce at CMC was solid, though. The meat sauce outshined the meatball stars on the marquee and went great with the gloriously oily garlic bread.

CMC's interior appears to be a kitschy tribute to Sal's Famous Pizzeria from Do the Right Thing fame. Portraits of legendary Italian-American entertainers hang from the walls and the respective restrooms are labeled with "WISEGUYS" for him and "STARLETS" for her. The service at CMC was plenty friendly and their story -- which I just learned myself from the above link -- is interesting enough for me to come back and give them another chance.

If only the patrons at Sal's Famous had been so forgiving.

TBG Eats: The NEW Doritos Locos Tacos from Taco Bell

Current Weight: 167.8 lbs.

This past December was the five-year anniversary for this lightly-read blog. I hopped into the way-back machine and pulled this quote from my very first TBG post:

I have NO idea what this blog is going to turn into or even how long it'll last. But, if you liked...any of my previously published stuff, you'll like this.

I'm not sure if I kept my "...you'll like this..." commitment -- although, if you're still reading this, I'm going to consider myself positively prescient! -- but, I can confirm that five-plus years and more than 200 "Food n Drink"-labeled posts were most assuredly not in my original mission statement. Of course, other than the never-ending adventures of my eight-year-old son, I'd argue that the food reviews are most responsible for keeping my infinitesimal piece of internet real estate open for business.

With the much-ballyhooed debut of Taco Bell's new Doritos Locos Tacos, I started wondering where the hype ranked with my personal list of most-anticipated empty-calorie eatin' in the TBG era.

(3) Maple Bacon Donut -- I found out about this decadent confection last year, just 24 hours before my annual intestine-extending adventure at the San Diego Fair. After conquering it, I wrote: The bacon's contrast in both saltiness and texture with the soft sugary spread allowed the flavors from each bite to linger for several extra seconds. Finally...fair food worthy of my obligatory grading hyperbole.

(2) Slater's 50/50 -- My friend Smitty first introduced me to the glory of "50% ground beef, 50% ground bacon". Last April, I drove roughly 90 miles one-way for the Slater's experience and couldn't contain my excitement in the gastronomic aftermath: When my 50/50 burger was brought out, the bun was practically glowing with an impressive showroom finish. I cut it in half and noticed the beautiful red tint in the meat just before the ubiquitous bacon aroma hit me flush in the face. In my first few bites, the bacon gloriously overpowers everything else.

(1) KFC's Double Down -- I don't believe I've written any other fast food review that included the words "I left work early...", but damned if I didn't make a dash for the four-door sedan before quitting time was official. From my office, the nearest KFC is 20 minutes away and in the next city over, but the journey was worth it: Thick, but not overly dense. Meaty, but not overwhelming for my mouth. The KFC flavor retains its gloriously guilty pleasure salt n' pepper taste. The bacon, cheese and Colonel's sauce starts off strong, but begins retreating into the background after the first few bites. Halfway through, their subtle(!) notes lent the chicken a smoky, peppery kick that brought the Double Down across the finish line and into "5 out of 5" territory.

All three received my highest rating, with the maple bacon donut and 50/50 burger reaching the coveted, exaggerated "500 (out of 5)" status.

I couldn't, however, seem to get excited about the Doritos Locos Tacos. It's felt like an unnecessary union from the beginning as arguably the two most recognizable faux Mexican food brand names have come together to produce the greatest...inauthentic gimmick-ethnic food of them all? To be clear, I'm a fan of both Doritos and Taco Bell, separately. But, who was begging for them to be combined? At least the maple bacon donut and 50/50 burger could hang their respective hats on the nationwide bacon fad. And, the Double Down was an obvious nod to American excess. Doritos Locos Tacos seem more like an exercise in effective marketing. Proof that an ad campaign can make you eat something you never wanted.

Last weekend, I pulled into my Taco Bell drive-thru and ordered two Doritos Locos Taco Supremes and another two without the "supreme" sour cream and tomato accoutrements. Since my son Jalen adores Doritos (trust me, the italics are his) I thought I'd drag him along for this bit of blog fodder.

At first glance, the Doritos Locos Taco Supreme looks like a regular Taco Supreme, save for the nacho/Hulk Hogan-colored shell. Surprisingly, the taste is almost identical to the regular Taco Supreme, too. The Doritos taco shell lends next to nothing in added flavor, as the Taco Bell ground beef remains the most prominent taste on the tongue. The rest of the ingredients -- shredded cheese, lettuce, tomatoes and reduced-fat sour cream -- are, as usual, superfluous.





I broke off several pieces of the Doritos taco shell to eat by themselves and found the flavor to be almost muted by snack chip standards. This tasted like a plain ol' Taco Bell shell that was lightly rolled around in the residue of an empty Doritos bag. Even my Doritos-loving son lamented, "It doesn't taste like anything different." Hell, this isn't even the most visually appealing shell that Taco Bell has turned out over the past few years.

Taco Bell should be commended for creating genuine buzz around such a run-of-the-mill meal. But, while the advertising certainly brought customers in, I doubt that the Doritos Locos Tacos -- on their own -- will bring those same customers back.

Grade: 2 (out of 5) Calories: 200 Fat: 11g

TBG Eats: Doritos Dinamita Nacho Picoso & Chile Limón

Current Weight: 171.0 lbs.

Over the next 24 hours, you are going to be inundated with tweets, news and reviews for Taco Bell's soon-to-debut Doritos Locos Tacos. It is inevitable. It will be inescapable. And, since Doritos are my eight-year-old son's favorite snack chip; I'm already anticipating his participation in his first hype-filled fast food "event".* However, the kind-of-contrived union between Doritos and Taco Bell isn't the only faux Mexican roll out from our friends at Frito-Lay.

* -- MY first fast food "event" was in the fall of 1985. McDonald's introduced a "lettuce and tomato" hamburger -- the McDLT -- to their ubiquitous menu of off-flavored meat and famously overrated fries. The obese, pre-teen version of me had previously been a Quarter Pounder with Cheese loyalist. But, I fell the catchy ad campaign and allowed myself to stray. A fat kid, his allowance and McDonald's access that was five minutes away. Around the same time, the Pizzazz Pizza debuted at Taco Bell (10 minutes away!)

This past weekend, I discovered Doritos Dinamita chips during my weekly post-haircut junk food foraging at the gas station/convenience store adjacent to my barbershop.

I presume every review of this product must include a condescendingly-delivered translation of Dinamita, so here goes: for those of you wondering, Dinamita is "dynamite" in Spanish. And, I can only imagine how much funnier reruns of a certain 1970s sitcom would be with the addition of the SAP button.

Dinamitas are the familiar Doritos triangles rolled -- think taquitos -- into the shape of a common explosive. To the naked eye, they're more "firecracker" than "dynamite", but I'm guessing "Doritos Petardo" didn't test as well in the focus groups.






Doritos Dinamita comes in two flavors: Nacho Picoso and Chile Limón.

I really enjoyed the subtle heat and better balance of flavors of the Nacho Picoso. The front of the bag identifies jalapeño as the taste they were targeting and -- like the pepper -- the spices here are mild and not overpowering. There's the tiniest hint of cheesy-creaminess on the back end of each bite that reminded me of one of my favorite recent Doritos flavors.





Admittedly, it's a bit silly to throw around edible adjectives such as "nuanced" to describe salty empty calories, but compared to the Chile Limón flavor, Nacho Picoso is positively complex.





Visually, the brick-red color of the Chile Limón chips is actually appealing. Just on looks, these could stand alone under a "Firecracker" sub-brand, if Frito-Lay ever wanted to put someone in a decision-making capacity who just so happened to earn his marketing degree from San Diego State University.




The taste, unfortunately, was an overly-assertive mix of spice and citrus. The idea that Hispanic-inspired food -- or its junk food facsimiles -- has to be obnoxiously hot is an ill-formed archetype not far removed from the Frito Bandito. Similarly, lemon and lime are best used sparingly in any dish, save for pies of the key lime and lemon meringue persuasion.

It takes a few bites to get used to the texture of Doritos Dinamita. They're firm and a bit stiff on the teeth, initially. If the seasonings had been dialed back a bit on the Chile Limón flavor, the texture might've been my only nit to pick. Now, I can only hope that Chile Limón's reputation doesn't sully the good name of Nacho Picoso.

Grade (Nacho Picoso): 4 (out of 5)

Grade (Chile Limón): 1 (out of 5)

TMAILBAG: The Waffle Epilogue

Beatríz writes:

I loved your post on the awful chicken and waffles. You mentioned how waffles have returned to your life since Mrs. Bootleg went on an overseas business trip. Wasn't that the same time period in which you invented "bourbon waffles"? I'm certain you tweeted about this, but did I miss the TBG post? I can't find it, if you did.

Also: while it probably doesn't qualify for your "breakfast entree syrupy trinity", you should consider a new category for crepes if you're not already a fan. They kick french toast's ass.

Y'know...I think I've had crepes, like, once. Not too long ago, there was a very brief "crepes craze" here in Southern California that saw several pretentious cafés open and close in less than a calendar year. I presume most of those places became $5.00 cupcake cafés. I'll make an effort to give crepes another try -- especially if they're served urban-style.

And, I can't claim credit for the bourbon waffles. That delicious creation came courtesy of a dear family friend, who made the following waffle-related suggestion on my Facebook page:

I recommend you make half the batch [of waffle batter] with a fistful of chocolate chips for J and then thin the rest of the batter out with a shot or two of Kentucky Bourbon for yours and have breakfast for dinner while the wife's away the right way!

What? Well, what do YOU use Facebook for?!

She just so happens to be the brains behind this kick-ass baking endeavor so her words carry weight. After my son Jalen annihilated two chocolate chip waffles and half a package of breakfast sausage, I filled a shot glass with Maker's Mark and added it to the remaining batter. I then stirred in some chopped cooked bacon (three strips, if I remember correctly) and let the goodness hit the griddle.

Bacon-bourbon waffles? "Jalen, get daddy the GOOD plate."







Sweet and salty. Smoky, vanilla-y and bourbon-y. The finished product was soo-POIB. ProTip #1: Do yourself a favor and spend the 10 minutes it takes to make a batch of waffle batter from scratch. ProTip #2: Don't use pre-cooked bacon. I mean you could ignore either rule, but the flavors are much more pronounced without the prepackaged batter-powder and pig parts.

I'm not sure crepes can compare to this, Beatríz.

TBG Eats: Chicken & Waffles from Urge Gastropub

Current Weight: 171.4 lbs.

If I were to rank the members of the "breakfast entree syrupy trinity", I'd place pancakes first with waffles second and French toast taking third. Over the course of my lifetime, there hasn't been much movement among them. As everyone knows, at the center point of every pancake -- and in strict accordance with the laws of gastronomic geometry -- the soaked-up butter and syrup merge to produce the most perfect bite of pretty much any meal.

But, waffles are finally making some noise within the kitchen at Stately Bootleg Manor.

Sure, they've always had the advantage of those built-in miniature syrup n' butter buckets -- each one's contents remaining undisturbed until its eventual knife-and-fork-fueled evisceration. It's just that, to me, waffles have always been a bit one-dimensional when compared to the pancake. For example, pancakes allow for the kind of porcine opportunities that gave the world pigs-in-a-blanket and bacon pancakes. Waffles, while delicious, are blocky and boring. This assessment applies to both domestic and Belgian -- sorry, I've never understood the allure of fruit and whipped cream toppings at the breakfast table.

Last month, my wife spent a week overseas on business, so I was tasked with all of the parental responsibilities. I'm told these include -- but are NOT limited to -- feeding our son. By the third night of Mrs. Bootleg's European adventure, the Cameron men were settling for "breakfast-as-dinner". In this case, it was the chocolate chip waffles I've been making for Jalen for the past year or so. Since then, he's asked for them again and again -- along with the super-sized side of sausage I give him.

I thought I'd be experiencing a bit of a waffle-reprieve last weekend when my good friend Thai came down from Long Beach to visit San Diego for the day. When he was finally free, we kicked around some eating/drinking options before agreeing on a relatively new local entry in the trendy gastropub population -- Urge.

For those who don't know, I live in a section of San Diego known as Rancho Bernardo. We're about 30-40 minutes north of downtown and well east of the ubiquitous beach scene. "RB" -- as it's known -- skews heavy with retirees and the main drag draws down its shade between 8:00 PM and 8:30 PM. (All blue-haired hell broke loose several years ago when a Hooters opened up less than a half-mile from my job.)

So, it was a bit surprising when the young adult-leaning Urge opened. Ironically, it's a bit hidden and tucked between two of RB's older -- in both structure and clientele -- establishments: a regional chain restaurant called Coco's and a wine bar known as The Barrel Room. I visited Urge for the first time last October and I've been back nearly a half-dozen times. The consistent theme in my Urge experiences is that the beers were terrific, but the food...not so much. Not even close, actually.

Thai and I arrived at Urge last Saturday night just before 5:30 PM. The layout of the place has always fascinated me. As you walk in, the proverbial "bar scene" -- stools, long counter, visible beer taps and flat-screen TVs -- is on the right, while the negligibly less noisy (and TV-free) dining area is on the left. The two sides are mostly divided by a wall that kinda-sorta keeps one group from bleeding into the other. Since we envisioned a more leisurely-paced dinner, we opted for the dining side.

Speaking of leisurely, the initial visit from our server took longer than I thought it should, considering the restaurant was roughly half-empty at this point. (By 6:00 PM, it was packed.) After a few more minutes, however, a Karl Strauss "Off the Rails" Red Trolley was in my hand and its smooth toffee and caramel notes were pleasing my palate.

Since Thai and I are cut from the same gluttonous cloth, we both ordered the chicken and waffles and a bowl of their House Cracker Jack as an appetizer. The description of the Cracker Jack hooked me in:

Freshly popped [popcorn] and topped with sweet and spicy house-made caramel, house-cured maple-pork cracklins and pine nuts.

Unfortunately, our appetizer arrived to our table at the same time as the entrees. The server was apologetic and thoughtful enough to offer up an explanation, but this always drives me crazy. Or, as I wrote in a related non sequitur from a TBG post in September 2010:

I want to enjoy my Southwestern Pizza Fingers or Million Dollar Birthday Fries BEFORE my hobo chicken chili is brought out.

My first few bites of the Cracker Jack -- sweet, but not cloyingly so -- paired well with my beer. I didn't pick up much of the "spicy" from the house-made caramel, but its texture was light and left the glorious saltiness of the bite-sized pork slabs (cracklins) unaffected. After a few handfuls of Cracker Jack, I turned to my entree. Naturally, when I attempted to revisit the appetizer a few minutes later, the caramel had hardened and our bowl of popcorn had become a permanent popcorn ball. What I had was decent, but this really needed more salt so that the popcorn could play off the caramel.

The menu description of the chicken and waffles was equally appetizing:

Buttermilk-fried "Mary's Farm" organic free-range chicken, buttermilk waffles and maple syrup.





And, the end result was equally disappointing. I mean, I've eaten enough soul food-restaurant chicken and waffles to know and appreciate "no frills", but the comically sparse garnish and overall plate presentation left a lot to be desired. The waffles were simple, but acceptable. Good buttermilk flavor with a crisp exterior, although I'd have preferred they were served warmer -- and with butter.

The failure was with the fried chicken. If I Google "buttermilk fried chicken", I get images like this on my screen. Thick and "wrinkly" battered-skin, golden-brown exterior. The very overcooked version I was served at Urge was coated in meal and fried as if it were catfish. The impenetrable breading is necessary for the delicate flesh of a fish. Chicken is too dense to be leather breaded and bound as it was here.

It was also unbelievably devoid of flavor. No salt, no pepper, no cayenne, no paprika...nothing. Thai and I had to ask for bottles of commercial hot sauce just so we could taste something on the chicken. And, even though I've developed a taste for the dark meat of chicken in recent months, I was surprised that my server didn't offer me a choice or -- if only dark meat is available -- that the menu didn't call this out. I didn't ask when I ordered, but knowing how fiercely loyal the fried chicken segregationists can be to their preferred pigmentation, it's something Urge's servers should consider.

I think I've eaten from a large enough sample size at Urge to simply take a pass on their food going forward. In previous visits, I tried -- among other things -- the Mini Corn Dog Lollipops (nice idea, really greasy and unspectacular execution); the Coconut Porter wings (thin flavorless sauce, overcooked); the Short Rib Sliders (tough meat, overpowering mustard and pickles) and the Urge Grilled Cheese (ten parts bread, one part everything else).

Their beer menu, however, comes with my highest recommendation. Urge claims to serve the largest tap list in San Diego's North County region. Updated daily, it includes several highly-regarded brews from local landmarks like Stone, Pizza Port, Karl Strauss and Green Flash. They offer another 50 or so by the bottle. There's an obvious solution to my reservations with the food at Urge.

Make a right turn when you enter through the front door and order a beer.

Grade (House Cracker Jack): 2 (out of 5)

Grade (Waffles) 2.5 (out of 5)

Grade (Chicken) -5 (out of 5)

TBG Eats: The Fried Chicken & Pancakes and the Bacon Old-Fashion from Slater's 50/50

Current Weight: 168.0 lbs.

For the first time in ten years, my wife and I did not host Thanksgiving dinner at Stately Bootleg Manor. Instead, we made the 90-minute drive north from San Diego to my mother's house in Ontario. This, of course, meant that for the first time in ten years, my wife couldn't complain about having to cook Thanksgiving dinner.

Actually…scratch that. Mrs. Bootleg's Thanksgiving gripes really never rise past a melodramatic, exasperated sigh while mixing the filling for her famous sweet potato pie or her annual hollow threat ("This is the LAST year I'm doing ALL of the cooking!"). Ironically enough, after receiving a reprieve from primary kitchen duty, my wife unleashed an especially prickly grievance. It seems that after asking my wife to cook the greens – which Mrs. Bootleg makes better than anyone on either side of our families – my mom stepped in at the 11th hour and claimed the collards for herself.

Rest assured…I did make the obligatory Tyler Perry analogy on Twitter in response.

Otherwise, the holiday went off without a hitch – good food, bad football and family. For those scoring at home, these were the top three finishers in my own 2011 Thanksgiving MVP balloting.

(1) My Grandfather: His pointed wit and physical prowess belie his 85 years. He and my aunt arrived at my mom's house shortly after Mrs. Bootleg, my son and me. He walked in with an ear-to-ear grin and a package under his arm. "I know you like good beer", he said as he handed me a six-pack…of Bud Light. He laughed heartily at my misplaced anticipation. Later, he performed random acts of yard work on my mom's front lawn as a houseful of able-bodied adults – several decades his junior – marveled from afar. And then, in the main event of the evening, he graced us with a spontaneous running commentary of the Enrique Iglesias/Pitbull performance during halftime of the Dolphins v. Cowboys game.

"Pitbull? His name's 'Pitbull'?! Pitbull's not a poi-sin*. Pitbull's a damn dog."

(*Obviously, I can't do it justice, but it helps if you consider my grandfather is originally from Alabama and pronounces certain words with an early 20th century southern black accent. "Person", for example, is "poi-sin".)

(2) Kool-Aid: After dinner, I asked my seven-year-old son to tell me his favorite food from the feast his grandmother had prepared. My vote would've gone to the macaroni and cheese**. Creamy, but with a sharp cheddar tang, I shamelessly shoved half the pan into my take-home Tupperware. A close runner-up would've been my mom's ridiculously delicious deviled eggs with diced bits of bacon mixed into the middle. My son, however, happily nominated the "red drink".

With apologies to the National Black Caucus, Mrs. Bootleg and I don't keep Kool-Aid in our house. But, when I was growing up, Kool-Aid practically established permanent residency on the top shelf – always on the right-hand side – inside our refrigerator. In 2011, my mom still makes it – and in the same Technicolor-stained plastic pitcher that I stole sips from 30 years ago. I watched my wide-eyed son ask his grandmother for another glass…then, another…as I couldn't help but think I'd somehow failed Jalen – by filling our refrigerator with organic milk, orange juice and bottles of water.

** -- Last week, Pat Robertson used the holiday lull to sneak into a national news cycle for the first time in almost 20 years when he asked, on the air, if macaroni and cheese was "a black thing". Lost in the subsequent 20 minutes of indifferent indignation was that, yes, it IS a black thing. Certain side dishes are the closest thing we have to a family crest (at least ones that we don't share with, umm…"certain Southerners" from 150+ years ago). We get excited and prideful about macaroni and cheese, greens and 7-Up cake in a way that you probably don't about green bean casserole. Some of us also eat chitlins, but even I ain't THAT black.

(3) Standard Definition Television: On Twitter, I asked if standard definition TVs were the new "rotary phone" of technological trademarks inside our parents' homes. Even as I watched teeny, fuzzy football players run around 27-inches of televised turf, it occurred to me that I might've spoke too soon. The one-ply toilet paper in my mom's bathroom and the razor-thin bar of soap that sat alongside the bathroom sink were other archetypes from the way-back machine. (Hey, YOU try those scented soaps from Bath & Body Works and tell me your hands aren't in heaven!)

Two days after the holiday, it was time for my other Thanksgiving tradition: meeting up with my aging high school crew for beers, lunch and hurtful laughs at each other's expense.

Once again, we opted for Slater's 50/50. We ate there for the first time back in the spring. We visited their Huntington Beach location shortly after it opened during the summer. And, our unintentional once-a-season Slater's campaign continued with some autumnal eating last weekend.

I arrived shortly after noon and found my friend Smitty and his wife parked at the bar. They were clearly 1-2 drinks ahead of me, so I wasted no time in placing my order. The "Bacon Old-Fashion" included words like "bacon", "bourbon" and "maple syrup" in the description. Like the rest of you, I've only ever dreamt of dipping my bacon into syrup n' bourbon at breakfast. Now, I can have it for reals!

The drink was sweeter than I thought it would be, but the traces of citrus and acidity from the orange twist helped cut the sugar. The bacon notes from the bourbon were a bit inconsistent from sip to sip, but the Basil Hayden's itself was buttery smooth and warmed wonderfully as it went down. If a 90-minute drive back to San Diego wasn't looming in my immediate future, I'd have ordered two or three more.





About 30 minutes later, our friends Thai and JP walked in, so we moved over to the dining area for lunch. Three of us ordered the "Fried Chicken and Pancakes" -- Slater's obvious play on the soul food staple, chicken and waffles. From the menu:

Fried chicken topped with house-made bacon-infused country gravy, two strips of thick-cut bacon and a fried egg between three buttermilk pancakes smothered in real maple syrup.





Awww, yeah. The impressive-looking plates arrived and I quickly removed my serrated sword. There was no room to separate the components, so I went all-in with mouthfuls of everything at once. The unquestioned star of this steroidal short stack was the fried chicken. The seasoning was spot-on without overwhelming any of the other ingredients and the steam from the pillows of pancakes acted like a syrupy sauna as it kept the chicken moist.

I continue to regret coming around to over-medium eggs so late in life. The gooey yolk oozed everywhere, lifting the flavor profile of the pancakes and anything else it saturated. And, while I wasn't picking up much of the bacon from the country gravy, the two strips of bacon here did the work of four or five strips.

If you're going to order this, I'd strongly advise avoiding any appetizers beforehand. Our party of five split a platter of fried pickles, French fries, sweet potato fries and onion strings. Consequently, I could only finish about half of my chicken and pancakes. This is a heavy, heavy meal that sneaks up on your stomach pretty quickly.





My only real criticism is Slater's application of the syrup. Personally, I prefer to pour on the syrup myself -- gradually, as I focus my eatin' on a certain pancake area. Smitty had to ask for extra syrup and I would have, too, if I'd had any room left for the rest of my lunch. Unfortunately, Thai's pancakes were flooded with syrup, as it pooled about twice as high on his plate than anyone else's. The pancakes soaked it up and all he could taste was the cloying sweetness.

After returning home to San Diego, I discovered another minor nit -- the pancakes don't reheat well. They'd absorbed so much syrup and yolk and country gravy that chewing them became a challenge. The solution to this non-problem seems simple enough: eat it all at the restaurant.

We'll meet again, Fried Chicken and Pancakes. We'll meet again.


Grade (Bacon Old-Fashion): 4 (out of 5)

Grade (Fried Chicken and Pancakes): 4 (out of 5)

TBG Eats: Ben & Jerry's "Fair Goodness Cake!" vs. Baskin-Robbins' German Chocolate Cake

Current Weight: 167.0 lbs.

My mom has been in my thoughts a lot lately. She turns 60 next month and I'm at that familial fork-in-the-road where I'm now sharing her with her daughter-in-law, Mrs. Bootleg and her grandson, Jalen. Around Stately Bootleg Manor, my mother has ascended to "grandma" status. It's what we all call her – with Jalen unleashing the appellation in concentrated interrogative bursts ("IsGrandmaHere? IsGrandmaHere? IsGrandmaHere?") any time she's scheduled to visit.

The recent memories of my mother are mostly those that involve my son. Two weeks ago she came down to see Jalen play baseball. As most of you know, Jalen plays the game with a certain level of freneticism that usually ensures a relatively early bedtime once his heart rate returns to normal and his eye-black-enhanced, at-bat scowl morphs back into a seven-year-old's soft countenance.

That evening, my wife and I went to the movies and stopped for drinks and a late dinner, afterwards. We got home just after 11:00 PM and discovered Jalen – wide awake – watching DVR'd cartoons on the upstairs television. Approximately six of the two dozen chocolate chip cookies my mother had baked remained on the kitchen counter and when I pressed them for additional information on the confectionary whereabouts, both my son and my mother – in strict adherence with black America's "stop snitching" philosophy – pled mutual ignorance.

I was reminded of my mother again when the Baskin-Robbins ice cream chain recently brought back their German Chocolate Cake flavor. It's a seasonal release that usually appears in September/October. But, when I was a morbidly-obese pre-teen living up in Long Beach, my local Baskin-Robbins only sold it in November. I remember this because on Sundays my mother would go to the supermarket and shop for the rest of the week. I would often go with her so that I could select an appropriate cereal based solely on the quality of the prize inside (YAY! – Officially licensed superhero trinkets or baseball cards. BOO! – Terrariums or other educational knick-knacks.) Afterwards, we'd stop at the Baskin-Robbins on 4th and Cherry for a cone.

Back in the mid-1980s, "cookies and cream" ice cream had taken the nation by storm. If you're too young to remember; you'll just have to trust me when I say it put the "chocolate chip cookie dough" ice cream craze from the following decade to shame. Cookies and cream was my go-to scoop from 1984 through 1986 and I never strayed. Oh, sure, I'd ask for a teeny pink plastic-spooned sample of other flavors, but that's not "edible adultery". It was more like an "edible booty call" with my ice cream wife's closest friends and co-workers. Harmless. Victimless. Delicious. But, I always came back to the one I loved.

Until I tasted German Chocolate Cake ice cream.

It was obvious that I'd rushed into my first ice cream commitment with cookies and cream. I pulled the ripcord on that relationship and 25 years later, I've never looked back. Yes, I experimented with frozen yogurt just like everyone else in the 1980s. I can say I've purchased my share of pints from Ben & Jerry's -- with their Oatmeal Cookie Chunk coming this close to being christened my third ice cream wife. But, I am nothing if not loyal to...wait, what? Ben & Jerry's recently introduced their take on German Chocolate Cake ice cream?! Good thing I didn't finish that "...nothing if not loyal..." sentence, eh?






Ben & Jerry's version is called "Fair Goodness Cake!". (Do I really have to make the obligatory reference to The Simpsons here? Fine. [Inhale.] And, like the Be Sharps, the name is witty at first, but seems less funny each time you hear it. Happy?!) It's described as "chocolate ice cream with German Chocolate Cake pieces and a coconut caramel swirl".





Before we continue, I suppose I should call attention to the ironic elephant in the room. I'm really not a fan of plain chocolate ice cream. If it were ever put to a vote, chocolate would finish fourth in my personal Neapolitan district. To me, most chocolate ice creams have an underlying bitterness that flies in the face of everything ice cream should be. Y'know...sweet.

Unfortunately, "Fair Goodness Cake!" stumbles out of the first-taste gate with a pronounced absence of sweetness. The caramel tries its best to balance everything out, but that leads into my second issue: there's not enough "everything else". Ben & Jerry's is synonymous with plenty of toppings IN the ice cream, but here, the coconut caramel swirl is, relatively speaking, a thin wisp. Each spoonful produces a mildly sweet finish, but before the next bite, the bitterness returns to bombard your taste buds. And, the chocolate cake pieces are left as an obvious redundancy, failing as a flavor accompaniment/contrast or textural lift.

Admittedly, it's inherently unfair to compare the look of a hand-packed pint with one that's prepackaged, but LOOK at how much better Baskin-Robbins' German Chocolate Cake ice cream LOOKS!





That's ooey-gooey caramel on top and it's spooled throughout, pooling beneath the surface every few centimeters. The chocolate ice cream has more of a milk chocolate quality -- rich, decadent and filled with guilt. But, my favorite part(s) just might be "everything else". Baskin-Robbins lifts Ben & Jerry's gimmick by blending in lots of walnuts and chocolate chunks. The walnuts cut some of the sweetness from the ice cream and caramel while their texture on the tongue is terrific. The chewy chocolate chunks are a wee bit bitter, but work as a background ingredient and lend some complexity.

Ben & Jerry's "Fair Goodness Cake!" has been promoted as a "limited batch", but it's been well-stocked in my local supermarkets for months. As the "plan B" to my all-time favorite ice cream, it's an acceptable substitute when Baskin-Robbins' German Chocolate Cake isn't available. Thankfully, my wife came home with a $13.99 three-ton tub from Baskin-Robbins earlier this week.

I'm good until Veterans' Day.

Grade (Baskin-Robbins' German Chocolate Cake): 500 (out of 5)

Grade (Ben & Jerry's "Fair Goodness Cake!"): 2.5 (out of 5)