Tuna Salad and Deviled Eggs c/o Bricktop's

Another night my father went over to have a drink and dinner with some Sewanee folk and I was left to my own devices. I chose to return to Bricktops and try their tuna salad while watching a Phillies playoff game; I think they ended up winning that game. The salad was decent, though I think a little less soy-y sauce on the tuna would have been more to my liking.
I sat at the bar and a couple sat down next to me and struck up a conversation. They asked if I was a photographer, I said no but that I did have a blog. Then the wife gave me a list of places in Nashville she felt were especially worth trying (Cafe Nonna among them) and then, as I often do, I asked them how they met, and they told me the short and long version. The longer version was more interesting and involved a break up over Christmas and her father telling her to, well, play hard to get. Now they're married happily and have twins, all because of a little subterfuge. Maybe this is my fatal flaw: I either say too much or nothing at all, but I never say the opposite of what I mean. Or maybe I do. Actually, yeah, sometimes I do. Sigh. It's so hard to be me.
I also tried a half order of their deviled eggs, which weren't quite as interesting as I might have hoped.
I mean, really. The father told his daughter not to return the guy's phone calls, to start dating other people, to be unavailable even when she wasn't...basically it seems like he was encouraging her to utilize 'the rules.' My mother has told me, throughout time, that I could benefit from being a little less straightforward or honest when it comes to dating, but it just seems crazy to go about dating in this fashion. Or not. I'm not sure what my point is here.

Lemon Apricot Pancakes c/o the Pancake Pantry

On my last sojourn in Nashville, I kept meaning to go to the Pancake Pantry, but I kept not going because in order to get there without waiting in a ridiculous line you had to be up on the earlier side of early. Finally, one morning, I was up that early, so before going to the hospital I tried the lemon/apricot pancakes that had long caught my eye. I was underwhelmed. I'm not actually that big a pancake person, so that could have been part of the problem. And the gobs and gobs of preserved apricots weren't really what I was expecting, though I probably should have.

Paté and Risotto c/o Tin Angel

Another night took us to the Tin Angel. Though we had a little wait, we were eventually seated in the back room, which was removed from the din of the bar and main dining area. They had a paté and Manchego special, which we knew we wanted to try, and that didn't disappoint.
They have little half bottles of wine. So we tried the Vouvray. It was different than most Vouvrays I've tried. I like the Vouvrays I'm used to, they have a honeysuckle taste to them but aren't cloyingly sweet like a Riesling or Moscat. But this Vouvray, it had - and I know this is going to sound kind of obvious - this really great grape taste. Like the sweetest element of a Concord grape without the bitterness of the skin. It was really quite lovely.
I tried their lobster and shrimp risotto, which wasn't as impressive as I might have hoped.

Lunch c/o La Paz

When we went to Samurai for dinner, I noted the Mexican place across the street...well, one of the Mexican places across the street. Later on I took a look at its menu online and determined that I was interested in its fare and mentioned this to my father. So, for lunch one day, we went to La Paz. They started us with salsa and chips.
I ordered a burrito that I can't find on their menu. It had chicken and spinach and other stuff inside of it. It was above average but not as good as a similarly styled dish I had in Cowan on my last Tennessee visit, though it looked better.

Dad ordered a tamale and chille relleno. He was a bit disappointed that his tamale didn't have meat inside it and had a lively conversation with the manager all about it. This guy understood the concept of customer service, which is funny because my father really wasn't complaining/had no reason to complain. Or, that's how I see it. Expectations that a manager should address include the food being served at the right temperature and all, but if a place makes a dish a little differently than you're used to, that's not as much of an actionable crime in my book. Point being is that the guy offered to take the tamale off of our bill and promised that if my father told him the next time he was going to come in, the guy would be sure that a few meat-stuffed tamales would be there waiting for him.

Burger c/o Blackstone Brew Pub

Another night I wanted a beer. Or three. Well, two. So I met up with Dad at Blackstone because I already knew how much I liked their beer. I tried their burger, but it wasn't really anything to write home (or blog) about. I ate half. Village Whiskey burger, you haunt me. The Chaser Ale, however, didn't disappoint.

Cocktail, Calamari and Chicken c/o The Acorn

Another day, another dinner. This time we tried out The Acorn. It was a warm, if sporadically drizzly, evening, so when given the choice of sitting in the rather empty dining room, or on the second floor's porch/deck, we went with the porch. I decided that a cocktail might be nice, so I looked at their specialties and got suckered into the combination of club soda and champagne, entirely disregarding a word that made no sense to me (turns out that word could have been translated to 'gross, dessert wine'). It was too sweet.
We shared the calamari appetizer, which was nice, though I didn't really dig the Goddess dressing element.
For my entree I went with the pan seared chicken breast with apricot and pistachio stuffing, goat cheese grits, and picholine olive reduction. I wasn't as impressed by the grits as I thought I might be, but the chicken was nice and I liked the olive element.

Dinner c/o Cafe Nonna

My father is a bit of a guidebook connoisseur. Or something. That's not really what I mean. He's thorough in tracking down source materials in order to determine where to go and what to see in any location in which he might find himself spending time. In the case of Nashville this included a guidebook and vigilant attention to the local paper's recent 'best' issue. One of the places he wanted to try was Cafe Nonna, as it was declared the best Italian by Nashvillians. So, after a bit of driving confusion on a rather rainy night - unless I'm making up the rain - that's where we went for dinner. I ordered the Riviera salad (feta, sun dried tomatoes, pasta, olives, artichokes) and their penne with Amatriciana sauce. The salad was good, though I forgot that sun dried tomatoes aren't really my thing and I didn't think the pasta really added anything to the dish.
My pasta was nicely cooked but, to be honest, the sauce was a bit of a let down. Described as "pancetta, onion, white wine and marinara with a pinch of chili flakes and butter," the sauce really just seemed like a slightly fancy marinara. I didn't pick up any chili nor white wine or pancetta elements. Meanwhile my father ordered the smoked gouda ravioli with the same sauce. After taking one bite he raised both of his arms in the air and started waving his hands around in a way that immediately embarrassed me, but the reason behind his rather odd approach to getting attention was fair enough: the pasta was cold, like almost frozen cold, in the center, and he wanted it fixed. Someone came over, the dish was taken away, slight apologies were made and an explanation was given that didn't realllllly make all that much sense. Our server told us that the sauce and pasta are cooked separately, so that was why the ravioli wasn't cooked. I figure what she meant might have been that they half cook the ravioli in advance and then trust that the hot sauce will do the rest of the job, but that in this case it didn't. My father and I share certain curmudgeonly characteristics, and his came to bear in this situation more than mine in the moment....though I do think that in a situation where you put cold food in front of a paying customer, you need to straight up apologize, offer to comp something and hope for the best. Making excuses, especially ones that aren't all that convincing, just makes the customer more grumpy.
That said, I actually liked the piece of ravioli I tried off of my father's reheated plate. And that said, I wouldn't really bother going back and trying it again. Sad face.

Sushi Dinner c/o Samurai Sushi

For dinner on my second night in town, my father and I went to Samurai Sushi. I ordered yellowtail and scallions and a roll that involved wasabi, but turned out not to be all that spicy. Oh, and ikura.
Definitely good. Definitely filling. Later on that evening I may or may not have ridden a motorcycle. That is all.

Salad and Filet Mignon c/o Bricktops

After seeing Mom and dropping off my stuff, Dad and I went to Bricktops for dinner. He ordered the oyster appetizer, I had one, it was good.
I tried their basic salad, which came with cheese and bacon.
For my main meal I ordered the filet mignon and twice baked potato. That twice baked potato really was something. I kept wanting to eat it, which was ok, since it was on my plate...but healthy? Probably not. The filet mignon was also quite good, cooked as I liked it (pink but not too pink) and nicely salted and peppered.

I was quite pleased with everything we had here.

Beer and Barbequed Pork Sandwich in Nashville Airport

I had a fair amount of time to kill before boarding my plane, so I stopped at a barbeque-ish restaurant close to my gate. I ordered a big budweiser and the pulled pork sandwich.

Not amazing, not awful. Just so-so.
The coleslaw, however, looked like it would kill you dead with three kinds of salmonella. I didn't try it.

Enchiladas c/o U.S. Border Cantina

For dinner that Sunday, we went to U.S. Border Cantina. I ordered and drank a margarita. We shared chips that were good, though not as salted or warm as one might hope.
I suddenly had a hankering for queso as I understood it from T. and C.'s preparation, so ordered some of it for the table. This was way different, in color and obvious ingredients, but for looking so bland it actually had a nice little kick to it and actual cheese flavor.
I ordered a combination plate of one beef, one chicken and one cheese enchilada. Satisfying, if not revolutionary.

I May be a Hater, But That Doesn't Make me Wrong

That Sunday (the day after Miel) the T.s and my parents and I met up and went to Lucky Bamboo for dim sum. The addition of dim sum to its menu was covered by many a Nashville foodie, and positively. But, and this is just the truth people, the offerings weren't nearly as authentic or delicious as the many accounts suggested. The shumai looked awful. Nothing like the many other pork dumplings with yellow egg noodle wrapping them and a little nib of carrot centered in the middles that I have eaten over so many many many years. Instead, there were these brown, dried out lumps of grey meat with pale white wrappers clinging too tight around the middle. The shrimp dumplings made me feel funny, weren't hot and didn't taste so good. What can I say? If this was the best dim sum option in Nashville, I would abstain. Their fried options were slightly better but, come on, it really is almost impossible to fuck up a fried thing. I'm a hater. What can I say? Also: the tea tasted like moldy seaweed. Maybe this is authentic dim sum and each and every other place I have been - be it in Wheaton, Maryland, NYC, Chicago, Philadelphia or Seattle (oh man, Seattle dim sum made many of my earlier experiences pale in comparison) - is the pretender, but I think not. Vitriol! I guess my point is this: if you have stumbled upon this blog looking to learn about Lucky Bamboo as your dim sum haven in Nashville, go, maybe your standards aren't as high or your palate as snobby...but in case they are, be prepared to be majorly bummed.
After dim sum we went to the craft fair being held at Centennial Park. I was quite taken with the look of these wooden chairs. Something to tuck away in my head as I continue to dream about my own little place, with my own furniture and whatnots and whozits.

Neighborly Dinner c/o Miel

The T.s came to visit one weekend. They had been in the south for their niece's graduation (complete with D. having his first ever ice luge) and made the detour to come by and see my mother on their way back to Maryland. At this point she was still at the lodge and we weren't quite clear what the next step in her treatment would be, but she no longer had to wear her mask everywhere and could certainly have meals out. We went to Miel (I need to find the equivalent of Miel in Philly...an expensive French restaurant without a lot of pretense and with a good prix fixe). The amuse bouche of the evening was a salmon terrine type bite on crunchy baguette. It was to my liking.
We started with a sparkling Rosé, which was a little sweet...but I'm not really complaining.
The appetizer special of the evening was a soft shell crab dish. My parents split one, and I tried a few of its legs. Nice and crispy. I like it when soft shell crabs aren't overly breaded; it's a waste and a travesty.
I'll have to get my father to comment up on the red wine being decanted in this photograph. We also had a white wine I liked very much.
Before our arrival, I had every intention of ordering the risotto with ham, scallops and poached egg. But the entree special for the night was compelling to me, so I changed my plan and ordered the monk fish with short ribs on top. A strange combination for sure, but still good. I forgot how dense monk fish is and how rich short ribs can be. Would I ever come across the desire to remake this dish for myself? No. Did I eat all of it? Yes.
For dessert we shared profiteroles. They were yum, yum, yummmmmy.

And to end the meal, a dollop of fresh honey.
I insisted on a few photographs in the parking lot because that is how I roll.
It was great to see the T.s, neither of whom I have seen since last year's Preakness. Good people, the both of them.

Salad and Lasagna c/o Pie in the Sky

For dinner another night, my parents and I went to Pie in the Sky Pizza. My father and I shared the Greek salad.
I ordered the cheese lasagna with one meatball on the side.
There was definitely a lot of this dish, and it certainly had enough cheese to please me. But, on the whole, not revolutionary. I once made a mushroom lasagna that I recall quite fondly. Perhaps I'll do that again some time.

Breakfast and Pho

Our hotel loaded us up with breakfast coupons, which we could use to, get this, have breakfast. It was an above par breakfast experience to many hotels in so far as they had hot food. A buffet provided options such as scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage links and patties, hash browns and biscuits. Where one might expect soup, there was sausage gravy, cream of wheat and grits. I did not avail myself of breakfast every day, but on this particular day I did. I decided to be a little creative. On a halved biscuit, I placed one sausage patty. I then topped the patty with scrambled eggs and sausage gravy. I asked the omelet man (who, I later found out, would fry eggs as well) for a little of his cheese, tomatoes and peppers and concluded the gluttony with two strips of bacon. I don't know if anyone else is disgusted by this, but I was...in the sense that it's ridiculous, not in the sense that it tasted bad. It tasted good.
That same day, I think, I met up with my parents, their friend H. and her son F. for pho at Miss Saigon. I came late, having been unable to see the turn-off for the restaurant, so everyone else had already ordered. I decided to go with rare beef and brisket, which was brought out quite quickly. Though I got my bowl in front of me with speed, I cannot tell a lie (blatant lie) and say that it was really great. None of my meat had a hint of rare to it, which was disappointing. Another disappointment was the quantity of meat (not much). The broth was fine, I mean you can't really go wrong with the basic ingredients of a pho broth, but it wasn't spectacular and certainly didn't make up for the disparity between the menu description and the bowl put in my face. One suggestion one often makes in my line of work is 'give this essay to someone without giving them the prompt that you were answering and ask them what they think the question was.' In this case, if you were to put this bowl in front of me and ask me what the menu's description was I would say. One bowl pho, well done steak and brisket, half portions of each. Which, as we have already covered, is not what I was looking for. The end of my rant.

Dinner c/o Bombay Palace

Another night my mother, father and I went to Bombay Palace for dinner. My first experience had been very positive, though the lighting conditions had left much to be desired. My parents both started their meals with soup, which inspired me to try the tomato soup. This was definitely a little better that traditional Campbell's Soup, but not all that revolutionary.
My father and I split vegetable samosas, which were slightly unusual to me. Not samosas as a whole, but this particular kind of samosa. Or maybe not? I don't know. Instead of chunks of potato and peas, it was all very much a mush. Thing about all kinds of cuisine? There are a million different ways to do it. Duh.
Mom ordered the fried fish appetizer, which we all expected to be some sort of flaky white fish. So, we were surprised to find salmon instead.
I ordered a goat form of bindi bhaji. I wish I could say I loved it, but I didn't really. It may be that the soup and samosa filled me up, leaving little stomach interest for the main course. Or, perhaps, I should have expected the pieces of goat bone in the dish (this actually does seem like a reasonable expectation to have in retrospect) but I did not have that expectation and was not pleasantly surprised when crunching into bone when I was expecting meat. It was harder to find meat than it was gristle or bone. That said, I didn't look that hard and the few bites of meat and okra I actually did consume were nicely flavored.
So, not an entirely successful second visit to the restaurant.

Pork Tenderloin and More

My mother was discharged from the hospital a few weeks back, but we remain in Nashville for treatment upkeep and infection prevention. While crowded rooms and children, along with live flowers and uncooked vegetables, should be avoided, she is entirely up and about, so when my parents' friend H. and her son F. invited us over for dinner, we happily accepted. We had drinks and dumplings on her back porch then went inside for dinner. She had a lot of great flatware. One day I hope to have plates that I chose on purpose. One day.
Dinner was barbequed pork tenderloin, cous cous and a cheesy squash dish.

Very tasty.
For dessert we were given homemade chocolate macademia nut brownies with coffee ice cream.
Thanks to H. and F. for a lovely home cooked meal. It had been a while for all of us. You sort of forget what it's like to spend time in someone's actual home after days of hotel or hospital living. Also, if you're looking for something to donate to or volunteer for, this could be something you might consider.