Let me preface this review by saying, I’m really glad chef John Joyner has opened his flagship soul food restaurant, Chameleon DJ.  He’s got a great story, and he’ll share it readily.  Actually, if you want to know his story you can watch this highly informative Youtube video.

Chef Joyner is a sweet man who clearly puts all the love in his heart into his food.  He feels soul food should have soul, and I can get with that.  The woman behind the counter greeted me warmly, as if we had known each other for years.  She welcomed my questions and gave me the run-down.  Their buffet-style menu items are bare bones soul, from the collard greens to the fried chicken to the mac n’ cheese.  I did notice a substantial vegan option: stewed tofu with tomatoes, onions and eggplant.  I wouldn’t spend money on that, but who knows what those vegans will eat?  At least Joyner knows his market and he’s making an effort to connect with it.

They boast a bend towards localism, particularly in their side veggies (but not so much the meat and fish options).  Indeed, the corn tasted fresh, bright and sweet, with buttery overtones and a pleasant snap.  This corn has never seen the inside of an aluminum can or freezer.

I loved my white rice with gravy.  I’m a newcomer to the rice and gravy phenomenon you Southerners seem to enjoy, trying to make it an equal substitute for mashed potatoes.  Normally, I fight the urge to push it aside and ask for the other white starch, but at Chameleon I found the rice to be the perfect texture and the gravy complimented so successfully that I didn’t miss my mashed potato mountain.  Their kale greens never slid into soggy brown cud territory, instead they maintained their bright green color and actually passed for health food.  I even had to add salt!  (which I always prefer to overly salted greens).  But he crown jewel of this meal was Chameleon’s fried chicken.  I was smitten with this crispy,  juicy tidal wave of succulence and tenderness.  I declare Chameleon’s fried chicken a phenomenon worth your time and money.

Which brings me to my one major beef with Chameleon’s brave venture:  The price.  A soul food vegetable lunch platter for $9?  A fried chicken lunch with 2 sides for about $9?  I found the prices to be a little uncomfortably steep for my soul, especially when the all-you-can-eat gourmet lunch buffet at Mela costs about the same, but with a much better value.  My recommendation is they should create a different lunch menu and try to keep it under $8 or so, and charge less for the all-veggie platter.  Then again, if their commitment to local produce keeps their prices a little over the norm, I could get behind that.

Their cornbread muffins were far too dry and crumbly, and oddly packed with cinnamon.   While I nearly confused my muffin mid-bite for a mouth full of sugary sand, I would try it again another day before making a final judgment call.  Overall, I think Chameleon is making a great tasting, heartfelt endeavor to bring one man’s dream of traditional home cooking to Asheville.   He simply wants us to feel good,  full and happy, and that’s just what I felt.

There’s a new classy joint to shoot pool, drink local brew and chill low-key with your friends.  While walking my dog on Haywood Rd. last night, I came upon a brand new, dimly lit venue, the Desoto Lounge! In the kitchy El Dorado building, where West Asheville Minx used to be, next to the Blue Ribbon Salon, somebody has opened a clean yet divey little bar.  Since I had the pooch in tow, I didn’t enter, but I did notice a pool table towards the back and some laid-back, happy folks bellying up to the bar, and they looked like they didn’t plan on moving for a long, long time.  I cannot wait to try out this new neighborhood pub.

West Asheville is slowly but surely becoming  Ground Zero for urban chic in WNC, and I couldn’t be happier about it.  Now cross your fingers for Vietnamese Pho on Haywood, and all will be well and I can live here forever.  Cross them!

It’s time you learned something here at SheWhoEats.  From this point forward, I plan to get all political on ya.  Well, not completely.  But I do consider myself an activist for social justice and equal rights for all, yet this constantly brings me back to wrestle with a single conundrum:  Should I be focusing energy toward my community, my nation and world to create institutional change that will save lives and heal the world, or should I, Barbara Kingsolver style, live exactly how I preach it, and simply through living my ideas, achieve spiritual nirvana (and possibly get a book deal)?  Generally I do a little of both and thus accomplish neither goal, not world healing nor spiritual enlightenment.  Here’s yet another baby step.

You should know about the Equal Exchange Co-op. They are an amazing cooperative based out of West Bridgwater, Massachussetts.  Their mission:

is to build long-term trade partnerships that are economically just and environmentally sound, to foster mutually beneficial relationships between farmers and consumers and to demonstrate, through our success, the contribution of worker cooperatives and Fair Trade to a more equitable, democratic and sustainable world.

They’ve been around for 20 or so years, and although they began with coffee, their products have expanded to chocolate, nuts, berries, and more.  They work with churches to foster interfaith and community support for wholesale coffee and other foods, and they have developed curriculum for kids to learn about fair trade and how it works.  This is a visionary, successful organization worth supporting.

Here’s the best part:  Their coffee and their chocolate are some of the most delicious I have ever tasted.  Seriously, I’ve been eating their chocolate all week as part of a Reverse Trick-or-Treat program, where kids give out Equal Exchange chocolates and pamphlets to get the word out about the co-op.  Their spicy hot cocoa is insanely amazing.  So start buying your coffee, snacks, and chocolate from Equal Exchange.  I love putting my money where my mouth is, don’t you?

I thought today would be the most appropriate time to discuss perhaps my favorite food topic: candy. According to quintessientially Gen-X writer Steve Almond, author of Candy Freak, I am a member of this illustrious group. Call me what you will: Sugarmonger, Chocophile, Dentist’s Best Friend, Nougatwhore (where did that come from?), that’s me. Like with most foods, however, I have a particular bend towards one type of sweet. I don’t prefer cookies, or cakes, I think at this point we all know how I feel about cupcakes. Pastries don’t do it for me, ice cream is good, but never quite hits the spot, no, when it comes down to the deepest, darkest of sugar cravings (this happens twice a day), I prefer candy.

 I grew up a few miles from the Ferrara Pan Candy Company in Chicago. You know, the maker of such wonders as Lemonheads, Jawbreakers, Red Hots, Atomic Fireballs, and my personal idea of tragedy, Boston Baked Beans. In those days, we walked the seven flat blocks to school, and the way home was paved with candy cigarettes, wax bottles full of corn syrup, Now and Laters, Root Beer Barrels, Jawbreakers, Bubble Yum, and endless other 20-50 cent options. I include sugar cereal in the candy category. Never allowed Trix for breakfast, I had to spend the night at friends’ houses to get my sugar cereal fix. I preferred Katie’s house of Lucky Charms over Stacey’s Cocoa Pebbled kitchen. For Christmas I often received a box of Froot Loops, which I also had mailed to me as contraband from distant pen pals. I had to keep it under my bed, you see, and my pitiful allowance covered only the requisite after-school dimestore candy rather than a full box of Cocoa Puffs.

Holloween was HUGE in Oak Park, Illinois. The one day where all the freaks, candy and otherwise, would come out to Take Candy From Strangers!! What other holiday gets you out of the house and interacting with your community in this way? What other holiday allows you to break every parental rule in the book, to turn the other cheek of good sense, to revel in sheer vice? Every year, every single house in the entire town was open for business. Sure, there were a few raisin and pencil houses we did our best to avoid, but for the most part, Oak Park offered us a smorgasbord of sugary wealth, enough to develop a formidible cache to store in a dark, forbidden place and last at least until Christmas.

Almost better than trick-or-treating was after we came home, sweaty and disheveled from candysweeping the streets, we opened the Great Sibling Trade Center. First, we were forced to stand at attention, tears forming on our lids as Dad picked through to find his favorites from our stash- A parental tax imposed by a staunch Democrat who believed one should pay dearly for high quality services. But then, it was a race to the bedroom where we dumped our bags and the bidding began. With the speed of an auctioneer, we would barter, shout, stomp and sometimes cry. We could be heard all down the street: “Can I get one butterfinger for two cowtails, one for two, one for two, who’s got a butterfinger. . .” late into the evening.

Steve Almond writes, “If I had been the kind of kid who kept a diary, the entries from the years twelve to say, sixteen, would have read: Got high, ate candy.” I don’t feel I am close to matching to his mania, his obsession with hording, categorizing, and generally playing with candy. I do, however, relate to the presence of candy in his daily life.

Also, I agree that the best candy has come and gone, and I am constantly in the search for new creations. The Caravelle, for example, is a thing of the past. Chapter two in his book is nothing more than an elegy for this sweet wonder. The Caravelle: A strip of caramel covered in a thick shell of milk chocolate, which was embedded with crisped rice. I know, I know, the 100 Grand, right? No, the Caravelle was in a whole different hemisphere than the 100 Grand. According to Almond,

“The Caravelle tasted more like a pastry: the chocolate was thicker, darker, full-bodied, and the crisped rice had a malty flavor and what I want to call structural integrity; the caramel was that rarest variety, dark and lustrous and supple, with hints of fudge.”

Had enough? The Caravelle was discontinued when Cadbury acquired Peter Paul, and so many others were banished in the name of buyouts and the end of the smaller candy makers who maybe made one or two bars, but made them with equal parts precision and love. In the spirit of sugar-coated nostalgia, indulge me and share with us your favorite candy, living or dead.

Providence, Rhode Island.  A picturesque little city with a river running through it, students both hot and artsy, and not least of all a proud selection of fine restaurants.  I spent one lovely autumn afternoon on Federal Hill, in the Italian District, sipping pinot grigio, smelling exhaust and listening to beautiful young men yell at each other about football, politics, and women.   I ate a giant portion of fettuccine and ravioli for Sunday dinner.  Andino’s is definitely a local haunt for Italian, but I can’t say I would recommend it to tourists.   I found the food to be decent, but far too plain for the price.  One evening I went out for sushi at Providence’s east end near the water, at Haruki East.  I ordered Nigiri (something I only do if the fish is really fresh) only to discover all the fish had been flown in sometime that week- from California!  Although the red miso soup with clams was nearly revelatory, their sushi did not impress.

On another occasion I ended up at a well-known rotisserie/Italian restaurant, Parkside Rotisserie and Bar, and while I nearly fainted after consuming a char-grilled bruschetta drenched in 5 types of mushrooms and a sage cream sauce, I was less impressed by the high-priced/low excitement entrees and desserts.

When traveling, my only criteria is this:  The food must be better or different than what I can get in my own hometown.  When eating out in Asheville, my criteria is that the food must be as good or different than what I can get in the big city in which the rest of my family resides.  Or most big cities in general.

My Providence week was bookended by one exceptional establishment.  Hemenway’s is the local favorite for RI food, more specifically, seafood.  Poppasquash is a bay where one talented oyster farmer has placed his beds.  The oysters are light, fluffy (if that’s possible), sweet, and rich.  They were the best oysters I have ever tasted.

I also tried Steamers, which are a Rhode Island tradition, according to the heavily accented waiter.  A large pile of clams are steamed in their own juice.  That juice is then set aside.  First one must pull a clam from it’s shell, pull the skin from the foot (um, what did he say?), and then “wash” it in the clam juice (to devoid the mollusk of its sand deposits), dip it in butter, and then stuff the whole dripping, briny morsel into one’s open mouth.  And chew.  Chew some more.  Repeat. 

Their clam chowder, while most likely rivaling the fat content of a big mac, tasted wonderful.  I would definitely make Hemenway’s my first stop in Providence.  As for the rest, I don’t know that I would recommend them.    I was busy at a work conference, and I don’t feel I did the necessary research beforehand.  Mostly I just asked the bellboys at the hotel, or other friendly boys I met at the mall next door to the hotel.  On the last day I realized I had just spent my trip eating like an 18 year-old Italian kid from Providence.  Reader, if you have any Providence, RI dining tips, please let us know.

Since recovering from Cat Scratch Fever, I have come down with a crazed illness of another kind.  Before moving to Asheville, summer was my favorite season.  These days once Bele Chere’s over, I start getting all jittery in anticipation of this moment, right now.  The biting air, pregnant with smoke from bungalow fireplaces, scenic mountain hikes with trees aflame, corn mazes and costumes and more reasons for kids to be cute, but especially, pumpkin flavored beverages and foods.  I ordered my first pumpkin spiced latte from an airport a couple of weeks ago, and the toasty, festive, creamy warmth of it brightened my entire trip.   And now it’s official:  I’m cuckoo for pumpkin flavor.

A few nights ago, I had some folks over for pumpkin carving.  I provided spiced hot cider, pumpkin beer, chili, apples with caramel, pumpkin bars, and the crowning dish, my first attempt at pumpkin cheesecake.

The recipe I used is an amalgamation of Moosewood’s basic cheesecake recipe and Paula Deen’s pumpkin cheesecake recipe.  Looking at the two juxtaposed, it kind of feels like Mollie Katken wants you to live a long, sad life, while Paula Deen is trying to kill you, giggling devilishly as you go. 

What I call Pumpkin Bars were actually called Pumpkin Chocolate Brownies on the Libby’s website, but that is not the proper term for these desserts.  They are kind of the consistency of brownies, but redolent of pumpkin with a handful of chocolate chips thrown in for contrast.   Don’t get me wrong, they’re delicious, I’m just sayin’ don’t tell me I’m getting a brownie and feed me something orange. 

Pumpkin Cheesecake

 Crust

• 2 cups crushed graham crackers
• 1/2 stick of melted butter
• 2 tspns cinnamon

In a bowl, mix ingredients with a spoon and then pour into a 9 inch springform pie pan, press down with hands.  Then, with an electric mixer, mix together the following ingredients for the filling:

• 3 pckgs cream cheese
• 1 can pumpkin (don’t know the fresh equivalent, 2 cups maybe?)
• 1/2 a lemon, plus 1.5 tsp lemon zest
• 3 eggs plus 1 egg yolk
• 1/4 cup sour cream
• 1/3 cup white sugar
• 1 tsp ground cinnamon
• 1/8 tsp nutmeg (or 1/4 tsp if you like more)
• 1/8 tsp ground cloves (or 1/4 tsp if you like more)
• 2 tblsn all purpose white flour
• 1 tspn vanilla extract

Once this is all blended, pour on top of graham cracker crust and bake at 350 degrees for one hour.  Remove from oven and let sit for 15 minutes.   Chill in the fridge for a minimum of 4 hours. 

You can find the pumpkin bars recipe on my link to the Libby’s website. 

Does anyone have any other great pumpkin ideas, sweet or savory?  Post them here so we can eat until we turn a pleasant shade of orangy-yellow.  Mmmmm.

Oh, and my verdict on the BEST PUMPKIN ICE CREAM IN ASHEVILLE is Ultimate ice cream’s version of the cult favorite.   I’ll take their’s over The Hop’s any day.   You only have 24 hours to try it over at West Asheville’s Two Spoons.  They close tomorrow for the winter season and won’t reopen until March.

Has anyone heard of this new organic restaurant on Haywood St. downtown called “Roots?”  I saw a menu in my doctor’s office this morning, and I was wondering what is up with Roots.  I can’t find a website for this place, and the menu said they were open only for breakfast and lunch, from 7am-3pm.

Due to some awkward nudity, paper robe notwithstanding, I was unable to get a closer look at the menu to see if their offerings looked interesting, or if it was just another soup-and-sandwich snore.   Actually, I would be out of my mind with joy if it was a soup only restaurant.  But I have a hard time getting behind sandwiches.  The other day, an errant busboy posed an interesting question to me: What food can Americans truly claim as their very own? 

Are sandwiches American?  I remember learning about the Earl of Sandwich in grade school, but I’m pretty sure he was British.  Sandwiches are typically on my list of popular “American” foods that bore me to death, with some exceptions.  Also on this list:  Pancakes (Sweden), pizza (Italy), chocolate chip cookies (UK?), and biscuits (USA????)

I digress.

Your mission, should you accept it, is to eat at Roots.  Then, report back to base. 

Inquiring minds and all that.

I just got back in town from a long weekend in our Nation’s Capitol to discover that Minnie Smith, co-owner of Picnic’s restaurant on Merrimon has died.   Say what you will about “Mom,” but she was passionate about her pie making business.   On more than one occasion I have found her earnestly trailing some helpless Ingles shopper down the aisles shouting, “Put down that pie.”  Go to ‘Picnic’s’ and buy one of mine.  They’re better.  You’ll be so much happier!”

Creepy?  Kind of.  But she was right.  The fact is, her pies were among the best in town.  Hopefully she shared her recipes, and the although she won’t, the pies will go on.   I will miss this Asheville luminary.  “Mom” and her pies are one of the things that makes Asheville so special.  She was one of our proud, enterprising personalities who abandon all normalcy and submit wholly to their passion.   So rest in peace, Pie Lady.  Another thing I love about Asheville:  Picnic’s will be open from 6-8pm on Oct. 23 for a special memorial, open to all.

For my opinion, continue reading. For an actual news story, check out THIS NYTimes article.

I feel horrible saying this, but I’ve never been an avid Gourmet reader. Don’t get me wrong, I love Ruth Reichl, and I’ve read all of her books. I didn’t find Gourmet to be that user friendly. Their recipes were complicated, and I always thought they had too many ad pages. For recipes, I prefer Bon Appetit. I subscribe to Saveur for their great food and travel essays. Anyway, this is still a blow to the food and publishing world. My question is, what new venture with Reichl take on this time? Will she start her own mag for low-budget slow food chefs? I would be an instant subscriber if she did.

I have recently joined in on a weekly Top Chef contest.  The food is always  completely fabulous, the company is even better.  This has been a delightful addition to my midweek activities, and I wanted to share the idea with all you Top Chef enthusiasts.  What would we do without Bravo, really?

Eight of us meet up on Wednesday nights.  We prepare our food beforehand.  Plating begins at 9:45pm, and Top Chef begins at 10:00pm.  Each week features a different theme, decided upon by the former week’s champion.  This past Wednesday, the theme was nuts and berries. 

At some point during the week, when I was feeling chilly and hungry, I happened upon THIS ARTICLE on NPR.org about Pasties.  I know what you’re thinking, but these pasties are edible.  Wait, that didn’t read right either.  Okay, allow me to explain.   In the cold winter months, miners living in Michigan’s upper peninsula area (referred to as ‘Yoopers’) like to have something hot, savory, and filling in their hands the minute they take their lunch break.  Pasties fulfill all of these qualifiers, as hand-held meat-filled pies.  I thought this concept was just darling, and I knew fruits and nuts would only add to the pasties seasonal appeal. 

I arrived a couple minutes late, but still in time to plate my dish and hear all the presentations. One brave chef brought stuffed poblano chiles with pork, berries, and a walnut cream sauce.  Someone else brought a drink: nuts and berries.  Frangelico (hazelnut liqueur), raspberry liqueur, and heavy cream on ice.  These drinks went down quickly and easily.     Another contestent was inspired by PB and J, and presented a nut-encrusted halibut topped with strawberries.  The landslide winner were thick, creamy peanut butter logs, encased in chocolate, blanketed by a tangy homemade raspberry sauce.  This same person also offered a nut-encrusted eggplant topped with cranberry and chive chutney.  The clear champion.  My pasties came in a respectful third, mainly because the meat-to-crust ratio disproportionately favored the crust, which albeit flaky, was too heavy to be completely successful.  My original idea was to use almond flour, but did you know almond flour is like $12 per small bag?!  I had already spent all my money on the locally raised ground lamb for the pasty’s innards, I wasn’t about to break the bank over some almond flour too. 

We eat our food during the show, and after it’s over, we vote.  Some of us explain in detail our personal experiences with each other’s dishes, some just give their numbers and move on.  Our rating system:  3 points to the dish with the best all-around flavor, 2 points to the item with the best concept.   Our reigning champion has chosen another season-inspired theme for next week’s contest:  Winter squash prepared 2 ways.   Can Gourmet Grrl sucessfully manipulate squash into a thing of beauty and win the medal?  Stick around shewhoeats and find out. . .   Either way, I know I’ll eat well. 

Third Place She Who Eats Pasties (makes 4)

Crust – 2 cups flour, 3/4 cup vegetable shortening, dash of salt, 1/2 a cup cold water

Combine flour, salt, and vegetable shortening and water.  Knead until you can make four balls.  Wrap the dough balls in plastic wrap and chill for 20 minutes or so.  Lightly coat them in flour and pat them into pancakes. 

Filling- 1/2 pound ground lamb, 1/2 cup roasted pine nuts, 1/2 cup dried  cranberries, 1/2 cup onions, 2 cloves garlic, 1 diced sweet potato, coriander, rosemary, dollop of Pickapeppa Sauce (or worcester), 1/2 cup red wine, 1 or 2 tbln balsamic vinegar, olive oil

Roast pine nuts in olive oil for 3-5 minutes on medium.  Preheat oven at 400 degrees.

Saute lamb with garlic, and most of the onions.  Add salt, pepper and rosemary, liberally.  Cook for just a few minutes until pink in the middle. Add red wine, Pickapeppa Sauce, a tbspn balsamic, simmer for just a minute. 

Separately, saute diced sweet potato with more diced onion and coriander powder.

Take spoonfuls of meat, sweet potato, nuts and fruit and place it on each flour pancake.  Then fold into half-moons.  Make sure the pie is completely sealed on all sides.  Brush with beaten egg yoke, if desired.   Bake at 400 degrees for 45 minutes.

Best eaten by hand, wearing mittens.

You’ll excuse me if I gush.

If Asheville’s culinary landscape were a dog show, Mela would be the Springer Spaniel.  Regal, beautiful, polished, used to winning.

India Garden might be more like a Basset Hound.  Full of sweetness and character, with a charming,  pleasant demeanor.  However, a little droopy or droll.

And this year, Best in Show goes to Chai Pani.  In this scenario, the Golden Retriever.  Simple, comforting, loving, friendly, and most of all, affordable.

Don’t get me wrong, I love all of these breeds and/or restaurants very much, and would be devastated if one ever cancelled out another.

Okay.  Done with dog metaphors.  (Can you tell I’m a new dog-owner?)

Chai Pani has been open for five days, and I’ve already eaten there on three separate ocassions.  I can’t get enough.  I have never been to India, so I’m no expert on authentic Indian street food, but I’m sufficiently thrilled by the idea of it.  At Chai Pani, I have yet to experience the requisite heaviness that comes with Indian cuisine.  All that rich sauce and dark meat tends to send me into a food coma before I’ve hit the street.  Chai Pani’s fare is refreshing and light, something that doesn’t often come to mind when I consider going out for Indian.  The menu is also mostly vegetarian, with some poultry exceptions.

Entering Chai Pani feels a little bit like arriving late to a party.  The place looks fun, it’s happening, everyone’s glad to see you, but you feel like you’ve missed something important.  It’s clear the staff are all friends, and while the community feeling is nice, I don’t necessarily feel invited to stay.  The casual atmosphere could be mistaken for something like a fast food joint.  I would prefer to be invited to sit with my friends and sip chai all afternoon long if I so desire, but that doesn’t seem to be the standard operating procedure. (Maybe it’s because the one thing on the menu that does hit the wallet a little too hard is the chai.)

The Thali plate is nearly revelatory in its devotion to colorful, tasty bites of various courses.   The word that leaps out here is balanced.  Their chapati tasted light and crisp, the chicken masala was hearty without any creamy weight, and the various chutneys complimented with bright and fresh flavors.  I loved my order of okra fries, although I thought the portion too sparse.    The texture of Chai Pani’s samosas are dreamy: creamy spiced potato filling encased in a thick, perfectly crispy exterior.

They also offer Indian sandwiches.  I ordered the Kheema Pav, or “Sloppy Jai,” as it’s referred to on the menu.  This spiced, ground turkey on a burger bun was aptly named.  My partner-in-dine loved his Indian sloppy joe.

The drink menu certainly seems authentic.  Lassis, chai, and lime rickey to name a few.  But according to various sources who have lived in India for various lengths of time, the drinks are meant to be sweet.  At Chai Pani, the burden of sweetening chai lies with the customer, and the mango lassi wasn’t nearly sweet enough.  Perhaps this is a personal preference, but I like my chai and mango lassis sweet enough to stand up to the fresh and savory flavors of the meal.

Overall, I am just overjoyed about Chai Pani’s presence on the dining scene.  Their food reminds me of the meals my friend Tuhin’s mom used to make when I went to his house for dinner in high school.   I welcome this restaurant to downtown Asheville with arms wide open.

I suggest you get yourself to Chai Pani, and fast.  Because the secret’s out, folks.  They’ve had to close daily from 2:30-5:30 because the lunch rush has drained them of their stock.  Hopefully these fine visionaries will get some rest, get the kinks out, and be ready to serve their hungry public from 11-10 like their website originally advertised.   Their not-so-soft opening just proves my oft-repeated point:  Asheville is more than ready for cheap, authentic ethnic cuisine.  Here’s hoping Chai Pani tolls the bell for Vietnamese Pho, Korean BBQ, Dim Sum, and other gastronomic delights from the other side of the world.    See, we’re not scared.

Since I’m no longer the young whippersnapper who can recover from enormous amount of fat intake in a single bound, you’ll have to read this old, but kick-ass post to check out my review of foods from the Mountain State Fair.

Other than that, here’s an extremely brief summary of the last month.

Love the tile floor of the Universal Joint, and the jukebox.  And that’s about all I love.  I need to go back and eat a few more things, but so far, I’m just not that impressed.

There’s a new Thai restaurant downtown, and it’s pretty good.  Thai Orchid offers decent curries, very good spicy basil eggplant, and their pad thai tastes great (but still not as good as Noodle Shop’s pad thai).

I almost ate  a new Soul Food restaurant on Merrimon Ave, down the street from the dude dressed like a chicken.  The sign said Grand Opening, but it was completely empty, and 9pm on a Sunday, so I just went home and piled huge amounts of saurkraut on a bunless veggie dog, watched 2 episodes of Battlestar Galactica and went to bed kind of miserable, dreaming of apocolypse, and awoke convinced veggie dogs are made by cylons.  When I eat there for real and figure out their name, I’ll let you know.  Update:  Their name is Chameleondj.  Still need to eat there, though.

Luella’s BBQ has also moved to Merrimon.  Hooray for them.  Great location, open nights.  They do some things really well, like Brunswick stew.  Still wish 12 Bones were open nights.  UPDATE:  I don’t like BBQ, so I’m not really a great expert.  But in an informal poll of my friends, Luella’s wins best BBQ pork and chicken in Asheville, while 12 Bones wins for best ribs.  I’m more of a ribs fan, myself.  But for BBQ, you really should check out Luella’s.

I’m completely obsessed with Curras Dom in Woodfin.  Ever since Austin, I can’t stop craving micheladas (beer cocktail thingies), migas, or breakfast tacos.  I need to move forward, I really do.  But then they built the patio, and I’m just kind of in a really delicious, high-priced rut.

Asheville’s branch of the Stir Fry Cafe has closed down.  I’m sure I had nothing to do with that.

In other Hendersonville Rd news, I noticed the Thirsty Monk South has opened behind Five Guys.  And now you’ve figured out the sole reason I ever travel down Hendersonville Rd.

Cook’s Illustrated annual Cooking for Two 2009 issue has pretty much changed my life.  Last week we made meatloaf with roasted asparagus, the week before it was chicken and steak fajitas the week before that we made the most incredible fish tacos I have tasted outside of San Diego.  This week we will try roast chicken with feta, spinach, and Israeli couscous.  Plus, jerusalem artichokes are in the farmers markets, so that spells quiche!