As chosen by you, here are the most popular stories OF ALL TIME (aka last week). Just in case you missed it.

Hope you’re hungry because we’ve got another searing scribble fromDLT‘s proudly-persnickety contributor, Eric Eats Out. Check back the first Wednesday of every month as Mr. Eats OUt never fails to shock us. What’s in store for this month? $60,000 Rent? Read on…

Do you really care when a restaurant closes?  It probably depends on which restaurant it is, but I can’t think of any recent restaurant closing that has made me pine for its return.  You won’t be the first to call me a “cynic,” yet, more often than not the restaurants that closed shouldn’t have opened in the first place.

Case in point: Parc Central, a fancy-shmancy place for “progressive American cuisine” that opened – and closed – in the Scottsdale Quarter development, across from Kierland Commons.  Tucked away on the side of the development underneath the parking garage, it was hard to see and offered nothing new, innovative, or particularly well-crafted.  Never mind the cavernous size of the place; I called its demise within a week of its opening.  I’m sad for the employees that lost their jobs, but did anyone really think this place was a good idea?  I guess so.  What the hell is “progressive American cuisine” anyway, and why do I need to pay $20 an entrée to eat it? »READ MORE

Hope you’re hungry because we’ve got another searing scribble fromDLT‘s proudly-persnickety contributor, Eric Eats Out. Check back the first Wednesday of every month as Mr. Eats OUt never fails to shock us. What’s in store for this month? $60,000 Rent? Read on…

Do you really care when a restaurant closes?  It probably depends on which restaurant it is, but I can’t think of any recent restaurant closing that has made me pine for its return.  You won’t be the first to call me a “cynic,” yet, more often than not the restaurants that closed shouldn’t have opened in the first place.

Case in point: Parc Central, a fancy-shmancy place for “progressive American cuisine” that opened – and closed – in the Scottsdale Quarter development, across from Kierland Commons.  Tucked away on the side of the development underneath the parking garage, it was hard to see and offered nothing new, innovative, or particularly well-crafted.  Never mind the cavernous size of the place; I called its demise within a week of its opening.  I’m sad for the employees that lost their jobs, but did anyone really think this place was a good idea?  I guess so.  What the hell is “progressive American cuisine” anyway, and why do I need to pay $20 an entrée to eat it? »READ MORE

As chosen by you, here are the most popular stories OF ALL TIME (aka last week). Just in case you missed it.

Hope you’re hungry because we’ve got another searing scribble fromDLT‘s proudly-persnickety contributor, Eric Eats Out. Check back the first Wednesday of every month as Mr. Eats OUt never fails to shock us. What’s in store for this month? Sweaty soufflés. Read on…

The sweatiest six hours of my life were spent assembling salads and soufflés in the calescent cauldron-of-a-kitchen known as Petite Maison, and I’ve had some tough jobs in my life. I installed 300 ceiling fans in an apartment complex one summer without air conditioning, I dug ditches in July and I cleaned the latrines at camp. But none of those experiences taught me the value of a back-breaking buck more than my one-night gig in a south Scottsdale kitchen. And I didn’t even get paid.

Given that my “day job” is spent mostly in leather loafers and a comfortable Aeron chair, I have always jumped when the opportunity arose to try something new and different. I rode the night shift with the police on the mean streets of North Scottsdale and I had my scrubs splattered with bone fragments while a surgeon-friend replaced someone’s hip. All of these experiences were amazing and eye-opening but, like many people, I’ve always been intrigued by what really goes on in kitchen at a good restaurant. When Petite Maison gave me that chance during Spring Restaurant Week, I said “what time do I need to be there.” »READ MORE

Hope you’re hungry because we’ve got another searing scribble fromDLT‘s proudly-persnickety contributor, Eric Eats Out. Check back the first Wednesday of every month as Mr. Eats OUt never fails to shock us. What’s in store for this month? Sweaty soufflés. Read on…

The sweatiest six hours of my life were spent assembling salads and soufflés in the calescent cauldron-of-a-kitchen known as Petite Maison, and I’ve had some tough jobs in my life.  I installed 300 ceiling fans in an apartment complex one summer without air conditioning, I dug ditches in July and I cleaned the latrines at camp.  But none of those experiences taught me the value of a back-breaking buck more than my one-night gig in a south Scottsdale kitchen.  And I didn’t even get paid.

Given that my “day job” is spent mostly in leather loafers and a comfortable Aeron chair, I have always jumped when the opportunity arose to try something new and different.  I rode the night shift with the police on the mean streets of North Scottsdale and I had my scrubs splattered with bone fragments while a surgeon-friend replaced someone’s hip.  All of these experiences were amazing and eye-opening but, like many people, I’ve always been intrigued by what really goes on in kitchen at a good restaurant.  When Petite Maison gave me that chance during Spring Restaurant Week, I said “what time do I need to be there.” »READ MORE

After a monthlong hiatus, he’s baack! Hope you’re hungry because we’ve got another searing scribble from DLT‘s proudly-persnickety contributor, Eric Eats Out. Check back the first Wednesday of every month as Mr. Eats OUt never fails to shock us. What’s in store for this month? Why, chicken with ballet dancer breasts and thighs like Beyonce . Read on…

If you haven’t figured it out already, I’m easily agitated.  Little things, like cloudy ice cubes, really piss me off.  Overcooked poached eggs make me nearly homicidal.  But few things lower the collective bar in the world of food more than chicken.  It doesn’t matter if we’re talking about nuggets, breasts, strips, fingers or thighs; most of the time, chicken just plain sucks.

Chicken, in all is various forms, has been marginalized to nothing more than a vehicle for flavor delivery.  The meat itself is tasteless and bland and, like tofu, exists purely to serve the higher cause of delivering flavor from a sauce.  If you really think about it, chicken is like cigarettes.  Chicken is to sauce as cigarettes are to nicotine.  It really doesn’t have to be this way. »READ MORE

As chosen by you, here are the most popular stories OF ALL TIME (aka last week). Just in case you missed it

In the least shocking news story of the year, the hilariously-outrageous food blogger, Eric Eats Out, was tossed from the set of News Channel 12′s fancy new studio in Downtown Phoenix late last week. So what outrageous on-air f-bomb did he drop to get himself escorted off the property?

He joked that he was going to earn the station an FCC fine, in a Tweet, the day before his appearance, and added the hashtag #wardrobemalfunction. Which was enough, apparently, to draw the ire of the corporate suits up on the ninth floor, who sent a producer down to personally yank him out of the pre-show green room (pictured), and have security hustle him out of the building.

Way to not overreact, News Channel 12 producers. That’s the sort of forward thinking that led your parent company to mothball your longtime HQ, cram you into the bottom floor of the AZ Republic building, and try to spin it as ‘creating corporate synergy.’

But why would we try to tell this surreal tale, when we can just let Eric get on his soapbox? And be warned, we did not edit one filthy-funny word.

»READ MORE

In the least shocking news story of the year, the hilariously-outrageous food blogger, Eric Eats Out, was tossed from the set of News Channel 12′s fancy new studio in Downtown Phoenix late last week. So what outrageous on-air f-bomb did he drop to get himself escorted off the property?

He joked that he was going to earn the station an FCC fine, in a Tweet, the day before his appearance, and added the hashtag #wardrobemalfunction. Which was enough, apparently, to draw the ire of the corporate suits up on the ninth floor, who sent a producer down to personally yank him out of the pre-show green room (pictured), and have security hustle him out of the building.

Way to not overreact, News Channel 12 producers. That’s the sort of forward thinking that led your parent company to mothball your longtime HQ, cram you into the bottom floor of the AZ Republic building, and try to spin it as ‘creating corporate synergy.’

But why would we try to tell this surreal tale, when we can just let Eric get on his soapbox? And be warned, we did not edit one filthy-funny word.

»READ MORE

As chosen by you, here are the most popular stories OF ALL TIME (aka last week). Just in case you missed it

Hope you’re hungry because we’ve got another searing scribble from DLT‘s proudly-persnickety contributor, Eric Eats Out. Check back the first Wednesday of every month as Mr. Eats Out debates the moral compass of the food media industry.

Have you noticed lately that at least a third of diners at restaurants are taking pictures of their food before they eat it?  As former New Times food critic Michele Laudig so eloquently wrote, in the last few years “cooking caught new cachet.”  Ingredients once thought of as “exotic” are now commonplace.  Social media has made everyone a critic, including me.  Standards have never been higher because diners are always watching…with the cameras on their smart phones.  I have to surmise that restaurants are turning tables more slowly because so much damn time is being spent by diners staging the perfect photo of their Jidori Chicken.  I’m hyper-aware of the collective sigh at the dinner table when I pull out my camera. »READ MORE

He’s baack! Hope you’re hungry because we’ve got another searing scribble from DLT‘s proudly-persnickety contributor, Eric Eats Out. Check back the first Wednesday of every month as Mr. Eats Out debates the moral compass of the food media industry.

Have you noticed lately that at least a third of diners at restaurants are taking pictures of their food before they eat it?  As former New Times food critic Michele Laudig so eloquently wrote, in the last few years “cooking caught new cachet.”  Ingredients once thought of as “exotic” are now commonplace.  Social media has made everyone a critic, including me.  Standards have never been higher because diners are always watching…with the cameras on their smart phones.  I have to surmise that restaurants are turning tables more slowly because so much damn time is being spent by diners staging the perfect photo of their Jidori Chicken.  I’m hyper-aware of the collective sigh at the dinner table when I pull out my camera. »READ MORE

As chosen by you, here are the most popular stories OF ALL TIME (aka last week). Just in case you missed it.

Here’s another savory screed from DLT’s proudly-persnickety contributor, Eric Eats Out. Check back the first Wednesdsay of every month as Mr. Eats Out contemplates life’s greatest joys, including his porcelain throne.

When I got into this food blogging pastime, I thought I had finally found a hobby that wouldn’t cost me a fortune like my other hobbies – sports cars and airplanes. How wrong I was. It’s not the cost of the meals that stings; it’s the end result of those meals. That’s right, I’m talking about poop.

Unpleasant as it may be to discuss, it is a biological fact that what goes in must come out. It doesn’t matter whether you’re talking about foie gras or sushi. (Or in extreme cases, gerbils, but that’s a whole different article.) I recently had lunch with a professional food critic who told the story of eating crickets … and the very unpleasant end-result that lasted for days. Sometimes that which is delicious going in your pie hole obliterates your innards. It’s a crapshoot … pun intended. »READ MORE

Here’s another savory screed from DLT’s proudly-persnickety contributor, Eric Eats Out. Check back the first Wednesdsay of every month as Mr. Eats Out contemplates life’s greatest joys, including his porcelain throne.

When I got into this food blogging pastime, I thought I had finally found a hobby that wouldn’t cost me a fortune like my other hobbies – sports cars and airplanes. How wrong I was. It’s not the cost of the meals that stings; it’s the end result of those meals. That’s right, I’m talking about poop.

Unpleasant as it may be to discuss, it is a biological fact that what goes in must come out. It doesn’t matter whether you’re talking about foie gras or sushi. (Or in extreme cases, gerbils, but that’s a whole different article.) I recently had lunch with a professional food critic who told the story of eating crickets … and the very unpleasant end-result that lasted for days. Sometimes that which is delicious going in your pie hole obliterates your innards. It’s a crapshoot … pun intended. »READ MORE

As chosen by you, here are the most popular stories OF ALL TIME (aka last week). Just in case you missed it.

He’s baack! Hope you’re hungry because we’ve got another searing scribble from DLT’s proudly-persnickety contributor, Eric Eats Out. Check back the first Wednesday of every month as Mr. Eats Out chews up life’s greatest mysteries, including the power of ambiance.

At the risk of jeopardizing my own personal safety, I’m coming out with a bold statement: New York pizza isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. I’m married to a girl that grew up a few miles outside of Manhattan. So, I’m not just risking my personal well-being, I’m risking my marriage, as well.

New Yorkers profess that “it’s the water.” Granted, despite the detritus left by the puppy-sized rats that wander the catacombs beneath Manhattan, one sip of water from the faucet will make you realize that tap water really does taste better in NYC, especially compared to the filthy sludge that we get here in Arizona. However, it is my contention that it’s not about the H20, it’s about the ambiance. »READ MORE

He’s baack! Hope you’re hungry because we’ve got another searing scribble from DLT‘s proudly-persnickety contributor, Eric Eats Out. Check back the first Wednesday of every month as Mr. Eats Out chews up life’s greatest mysteries, including the power of ambiance.

At the risk of jeopardizing my own personal safety, I’m coming out with a bold statement: New York pizza isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. I’m married to a girl that grew up a few miles outside of Manhattan. So, I’m not just risking my personal well-being, I’m risking my marriage, as well.

New Yorkers profess that “it’s the water.” Granted, despite the detritus left by the puppy-sized rats that wander the catacombs beneath Manhattan, one sip of water from the faucet will make you realize that tap water really does taste better in NYC, especially compared to the filthy sludge that we get here in Arizona. However, it is my contention that it’s not about the H20, it’s about the ambiance. »READ MORE

He’s baack! Hope you’re hungry because we’ve got another searing scribble from DLT’s proudly-persnickety contributor, Eric Eats Out. Check back the first Wednesday of every month as Mr. Eats Out chews up life’s greatest mysteries, including the joys of lowering your standards. Warning! Slightly risque words after the jump.

I declare 2011 as the Year of Mediocrity!  Down with “great,” just bring me “pretty good.” 2010 was disastrous on so many levels, so it is fitting that my New Year’s Eve dinner at one of Phoenix’s top fine dining restaurants followed suit by delivering a less-than-stellar experience.

I’m not naming names (hint: the name starts with “Q” and ends with “uiessence”), but I should really learn to be happy with empty water glasses, waiting 10 minutes for my server to arrive at my table when I’m seated, foie gras terrine served ice cold, sloppily-served lobster bisque and food that isn’t hot. When I asked my server why they were not doing wine pairings with our tasting menu, the answer was a cheery “Just because.” I mean, really, why should I expect more? I’ll just be disappointed, so I might as well set my expectations low and be satisfied by “okay.” Just because! »READ MORE

As chosen by you, here are the most popular stories OF ALL TIME (aka last week). Just in case you missed it.

Another year has come and gone, and it’s time to make amends for my wrongdoings and make some plans for 2011. So, if you would indulge me for a moment, I’d like to say the following:

To Chef Christopher Gross: I’m sorry that we had a public spat a while back regarding my 2008 review of Christopher’s Restaurant and Crush Lounge. I’ll be more careful with my words, and I learned a lesson. I stand by the experience I had on that particular night, but have no doubt about your culinary talents. You, among a select few, are responsible for raising the bar of the Phoenix culinary scene in the past 20 years. Moreover, you have been incredibly gracious to me and I’m proud to now call you a “friend.” P.S. Can I borrow your Ducati? »READ MORE

Another year has come and gone, and it’s time to make amends for my wrongdoings and make some plans for 2011. So, if you would indulge me for a moment, I’d like to say the following:

To Chef Christopher Gross: I’m sorry that we had a public spat a while back regarding my 2008 review of Christopher’s Restaurant and Crush Lounge. I’ll be more careful with my words, and I learned a lesson. I stand by the experience I had on that particular night, but have no doubt about your culinary talents. You, among a select few, are responsible for raising the bar of the Phoenix culinary scene in the past 20 years. Moreover, you have been incredibly gracious to me and I’m proud to now call you a “friend.” P.S. Can I borrow your Ducati? »READ MORE

As chosen by you, here are the most popular stories OF ALL TIME (aka last week). Just in case you missed it.

He’s baack! Hope you’re hungry because we’ve got another searing scribble from DLT’s proudly-persnickety contributor, Eric Eats Out. Check back the first Wednesday of every month as Mr. Eats Out chews up life’s greatest mysteries, including the economic value of bathroom attendants. Warning! Slightly risque words after the jump.

The scene: Mastro’s Steakhouse in north Scottsdale, a swanky cathedral of beef, martinis, and excess. The bar was crawling with cougars and over-the-hill fat guys laden with gold chains. In the dining room, it was a quiet Sunday night and my wife and I were celebrating her birthday. After two cocktails and five glasses of iced tea, my bladder felt like Tempe Town Lake on the verge of rupturing. I really had to go. It was urgent.

»READ MORE

He’s baack! Hope you’re hungry because we’ve got another searing scribble from DLT’s proudly-persnickety contributor, Eric Eats Out. Check back the first Wednesday of every month as Mr. Eats Out chews up life’s greatest mysteries, including the economic value of bathroom attendants. Warning! Slightly risque words after the jump.

The scene: Mastro’s Steakhouse in north Scottsdale, a swanky cathedral of beef, martinis, and excess. The bar was crawling with cougars and over-the-hill fat guys laden with gold chains. In the dining room, it was a quiet Sunday night and my wife and I were celebrating her birthday. After two cocktails and five glasses of iced tea, my bladder felt like Tempe Town Lake on the verge of rupturing. I really had to go. It was urgent. »READ MORE

As chosen by you, here are the most popular stories OF ALL TIME (aka last week). Just in case you missed it.

Here’s another savory screed from DLT’s proudly-persnickety contributor, Eric Eats Out. Check back the first Wednesday of every month as Mr. Eats Out chews up life’s greatest mysteries, including the relative location of napkins to the shirt area.

It has been alleged that “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.” Clearly, it didn’t take long for such serenity to be denigrated by uncivil human beings, roaming the planet with complete disregard for their fellow inhabitants. One trip to Disneyland with your kids should be enough to convince you that people with manners are becoming as rare a sighting as Lindsay Lohan at an AA meeting. But nowhere is our society’s lack of manners more readily apparent than at restaurants.

I can accept that the world is probably a better place without a bunch of Miss Manners Clones running around. In fact, this column isn’t a rant about lack of grace at all but, rather, a specific act of incivility that is shocking not only in appearance, but mostly for its complete disregard for said offender’s sense of self-worth. Four words: Napkin Tucked Into Shirt. »READ MORE

Here’s another savory screed from DLT’s proudly-persnickety contributor, Eric Eats Out. Check back the first Wednesday of every month as Mr. Eats Out chews up life’s greatest mysteries, including the relative location of napkins to the shirt area.

It has been alleged that “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.” Clearly, it didn’t take long for such serenity to be denigrated by uncivil human beings, roaming the planet with complete disregard for their fellow inhabitants. One trip to Disneyland with your kids should be enough to convince you that people with manners are becoming as rare a sighting as Lindsay Lohan at an AA meeting. But nowhere is our society’s lack of manners more readily apparent than at restaurants.

I can accept that the world is probably a better place without a bunch of Miss Manners Clones running around. In fact, this column isn’t a rant about lack of grace at all but, rather, a specific act of incivility that is shocking not only in appearance, but mostly for its complete disregard for said offender’s sense of self-worth. Four words: Napkin Tucked Into Shirt. »READ MORE

As chosen by you, here are the most popular posts of ALL TIME! (last week)

Here’s another savory screed from DLT’s newest contributor, Eric Eats Out. Check back the first Wednesday of every month as Mr. Eats Out ponders and pontificates on life’s greatest mysteries such as the brilliance of Taco Bell’s Mexican Pizza.

»READ MORE

Here’s another savory screed from DLT‘s newest contributor, Eric Eats Out. Check back the first Wednesday of every month as Mr. Eats Out ponders and pontificates on life’s greatest mysteries such as the brilliance of Taco Bell’s Mexican Pizza.

People assume that, because I write about food, I must be a food elitist. Close friends and family can attest to the fact that this couldn’t be further from the truth. Sure, I love the high-concept and skillfully prepared cuisine at Binkley’s. I am in awe of the lengths that Eliot Wexler and Chris Curtiss go through to source the best ingredients for Noca. And Christopher Gross understands French food better than just about anyone else around. If I won Powerball, I could afford to eat at those places all the time while still having money leftover to pay for routine liposuction, gastric bypass and heavy doses of Lipitor. »READ MORE

As chosen by you, here are the most read stories OF ALL TIME (aka last week). Just in case you missed it.

Introducing DLT’s newest contributor, Eric Eats Out. Check back the first Wednesday of every month as Mr. Eats Out ponders and pontificates on life’s greatest mysteries. OK, really he just wants to bash on the horror that is cloudy ice.

My parents raised me without an abundance of rules, but one of the few that I do remember is “never use the word ‘hate.’” Obviously, my parents never had a run-in with a cloudy ice cube, because if there is one thing in this world that justifies the anger, venom and repugnance intrinsic in the word “hate,” it is definitely cloudy ice. I mean, really, what could be more hate-worthy?

According to the laws of chemistry and physics, ice gets cloudy when microscopic gas bubbles are trapped inside; the color also comes from minerals in the water itself. Save it for the polar bears, penguins and puffins Mr. Scientist, I’m calling bullshit on your cloudy ice conspiracy. When my refrigerator spits out cloudy ice cubes, I view it as a silent attack on my sensibilities, an egregious act of domestic culinary terrorism that must be stopped. »READ MORE

Introducing DLT‘s newest contributor, Eric Eats Out. Check back the first Wednesday of every month as Mr. Eats Out ponders and pontificates on life’s greatest mysteries. OK, really he just wants to bash on the horror that is cloudy ice.

My parents raised me without an abundance of rules, but one of the few that I do remember is “never use the word ‘hate.’” Obviously, my parents never had a run-in with a cloudy ice cube, because if there is one thing in this world that justifies the anger, venom and repugnance intrinsic in the word “hate,” it is definitely cloudy ice. I mean, really, what could be more hate-worthy?

According to the laws of chemistry and physics, ice gets cloudy when microscopic gas bubbles are trapped inside; the color also comes from minerals in the water itself. Save it for the polar bears, penguins and puffins Mr. Scientist, I’m calling bullshit on your cloudy ice conspiracy. When my refrigerator spits out cloudy ice cubes, I view it as a silent attack on my sensibilities, an egregious act of domestic culinary terrorism that must be stopped.

»READ MORE