Best Of :: Food & Drink
Pie in the Sky
by Robrt L. Pela
Myke Olsen of Myke's Pizza
Myke Olsen dreamed of opening a pizzeria.
"It's a cliché to say so, I know," the owner of Myke's Pizza admits. "But getting fired from my accounting job was one of the best things that ever happened to me."
Olsen had been unhappy counting beans, but he loved pizza. He'd been hosting monthly pizza parties with his friend Jared Allen, founder of beloved bakery Proof Bread, for a couple of years. "I started to notice that my friends really liked the combinations I was creating," he says of his amateur pies. "I started to think maybe I could do this."
Five Things That Make for a Great Pizza
By Myke Olsen
- The most important thing is you have to care about what you’re making. I ordered a pizza at a place in Utah last summer. It sounded great on the menu, but it came out with no color or crispness. It tasted awful, because it was made by someone who didn’t care.
- Using quality ingredients goes a long way, and the way to do that is to build relationships with vendors and the people who are making good food here locally.
- Make it your own. The cool thing about pizza is there are so many ways to individualize it. I always say, make a pizza that’s a reflection of your personality.
- Use one ingredient that really puts your stamp on it — like how we use Gouda as a finishing cheese. Most people use Parmigiano.
- Sharing a pizza with someone important to you is a good thing. And sharing pizza with a whole bunch of important people means grabbing more than one pie and getting to try different slices!
Let's be clear: This is the best place to get a pig. This is not necessarily the best place to actually be a pig. Because Smokey O's specialty is whole roast pig, delivered hot and ready to serve (or raw, for people who have a hankering to dig their own pit and fill it with flames). What's the use? Why, a luau, of course.
Smokey O's marinates its porkers in special seasonings, then roasts them for 27 hours over applewood smoke. The poor pig is then defiled with an apple in its mouth and a lei around its neck, but it sure tastes good. It's not even all that expensive -- $7.95 a pound for a big cooked pig, $3.50 raw. Poor pig, lucky us.
BEST SEAFOOD RESTAURANT
Salt Cellar Restaurant
550 North Hayden, Scottsdale
BEST CHINESE RESTAURANT
P.F. Chang's China Bistro
several Valley locations
BEST FRENCH RESTAURANT
Sophie's French Bistro
2320 East Osborn
BEST MEDITERRANEAN RESTAURANT
The Persian Room
17040 North Scottsdale Road, Scottsdale
BEST INDIAN RESTAURANT
several Valley locations
BEST ITALIAN RESTAURANT
several Valley locations
BEST JAPANESE RESTAURANT
RA Sushi Bar Restaurant
several Valley locations
BEST BARBECUE JOINT
Honey Bear's Bar-B-Q
5012 East Van Buren
2824 North Central
Vie de France
14202 North Scottsdale Road, Scottsdale
BEST PLACE TO POP THE QUESTION
The Melting Pot
8320 North Hayden, Scottsdale
3626 East Ray, Ahwatukee
BEST JUICE/SMOOTHIE SHOP
BEST VEGETARIAN RESTAURANT
1250 East Apache, Tempe
1949 West Ray, Chandler
BEST COFFEE HOUSE
BEST NEW RESTAURANT
Vie de France
14202 North Scottsdale Road, Scottsdale
BEST OUTDOOR PATIO
Zipp's Sports Grill
7551 East Camelback, Scottsdale
The fact that Cafe ah Pwah boasts a beautiful, contemporary European menu in a charming, cozy bistro setting is deserving of an award in itself. The fact that its owner Karen Kapraszewski was brave enough to set it in the tiny country center of main street Gilbert makes her our restaurant hero.
This place could be kicking butt among the best in Scottsdale, but here it is, nestled among antique stores, barbecue shops and farm tool rental yards. Chef Mark Rubin is blazing new paths in a strange new world, and for that, we salute him.
He's got great cuisine under his cape. Grilled hanger steak (French) goes Southwest with marinated onions and smoked Gouda in a tortilla. Pork takes an Asian influence with hoisin glaze, wasabi-dusted focaccia, napa cabbage slaw and sweet potato crisps. And skillet-seared sea scallops have rarely been so well-treated as they are here with goat cheese polenta, tomato confit and saffron jus lie.
Faster than Superman, Kapraszewski takes us on an edible voyage around the world. That's pretty super stuff.
Beef. It's what's for dinner. Particularly if it's dinner at The Grill, the Valley's shrine to prime, dry-aged meat. The restaurant is part of an AAA Five Diamond Resort, and looks it, complete with breathtaking views of the 18th hole of the emerald green Tournament Players Club of Scottsdale stadium golf course. Cigars? Martinis? Of course. But we're here for our favorite entree on the hoof: the classic grilled prime, dry-aged rib eye, paired with "Yorkshire'' mushroom waffle and baby broccolini. It's toothsome, buttery tender, and spills luscious golden red juices when cut. Sure, it's an expensive investment, but worth it. Because when it comes to the best beef, the steaks are high.
The story of the Horny Toad is pure cowboy yarn: "Sometime during the last century, an old prospector working the area a few miles northeast of the little town of Phoenix, Arizona, came upon a small watering hole. He thought to himself that this here was mighty purty scenery and he'd bet them Easterners would give an arm and a leg for some of this property. They could build them some roads and put up funny names on the street signs and everybody'd be carefree, even if they had to live in caves and drink from the creek.
"His aching feet reminded him not to buy any more of those 2 for $5 boots. As he eased the boots off to soak his tired feet, he saw the many calluses they had given him, and he said to himself, I sure am getting horny toed.'"
Hmm. We seem to remember a more racy yarn a few years back (the restaurant prompted another down the street, the Satisfied Frog), but these days Cave Creek is turning into a family town. Whatever. The Toad still delivers mouth-watering barbecued beef and baby back pork ribs, barbecued chicken, fried chicken and chicken-fried steak. Fancier plates feature things like New York strip steak, top sirloin and prime rib. And in good cowboy tradition, meals include a variety of the fixin's -- soup or salad, potato, cowboy beans, garlic bread and veggies. Yee haw!
She is the Supreme Master Ching Hai, a self-proclaimed reincarnation of Jesus and Buddha, and millions around the world believe her. Phoenix is just one of many cities where the Master's faux-meat recipes satisfy hungry vegetarians who clamor for soy chicken, duck or lobster, brought to your table by followers who wear the Master's image on amulets around their necks. The atmosphere is new-age dental office, the walls Pepto-pink and hung with the Master's mediocre paintings. And then there's the video bar, where you can watch the Supreme Master addressing the masses at her public appearances, and where there are many oh-so-holy items for purchase, including soy jerky, videos, audio cassettes, and large cans of Tuno.
Desert Greens' menu insists that it creates "gourmet culinary creations for your heart and soul." We believe them. Who'd have thought that the dread term "vegetarian" (or, scarier, "vegan") could be so satisfying?
We'd eat this stuff even if it weren't good for us. Oh, the herb polenta grilled golden brown on a bed of brown rice with steamed vegetables and a pool of mushroom gravy (gravy!). Who can resist a green corn tamale with cheese, or dairy-free red bean, topped with green chile sauce, red pepper and black olives? And sautéed artichoke hearts with olive oil, diced tomato, garlic and fresh basil over linguini is a designer dish in any upscale eatery.
There's even a kids' menu, tempting the tots with (soy or dairy) grilled cheese, a bean and cheese burrito in sprouted wheat tortilla, or nachos and salsa. There are desserts, too, like pumpkin cake with cream cheese icing, chocolate with raspberry filling, kiwi, or vegan sponge cake with butter cream icing. Here's to living forever.
Gourmet is much more than complicated, expensive food. It's a symphony of spectacular ingredients, carefully selected and matched for a "wow, what is this gorgeous thing" dish. It's a compound effect, where each course builds on another, like rising drama of theater. That having some knowledge of its workings can be used to impress the hell out of friends and business associates just makes it that much more delicious.
So study up a little before venturing into the gorgeous Gregory's. It helps to know that the best way to order here is in small, three- to five-course tastings, following the order of the menu to build flavors from light to heavy. Practice asking with authority for this appetizer: torchon of foie gras, toasted brioche, Chenin Blanc aspic, sel gris and port wine reduction. Choose with confidence a salad of field greens, duck confit, roasted beets, sour cream dill and buckwheat blini. For a fish course with flair: lion's paw scallop, sweet vermouth, lobster broth, micro arugula and foie butter. And be a meat maestro with grilled Wagyu Kobe beef marinated in Japanese beer with shiitake mushroom potato hash.
Gregory's is complicated. But it's also gorgeous. And that, good friends, is what makes a true gourmet experience.
Christopher's has racked up the awards since opening in 1998 (James Beard, even!). The bistro is a little lower-profile these days, but still a model for magical, traditional, ooh-la-la-inspiring French cuisine. Adding flair is a huge collection of wines, thoughtfully paired with dishes and available for tastings.
Most dishes are prepared in a wood-burning oven, the better to show off their natural flavors. All dishes are sumptuous, like roasted half Sonoma duck, molasses-glazed rack of lamb, classic hanger steak with shallots and red wine, truffle-infused prime sirloin, and the sinful wood-oven-roasted foie gras.
We're usually around for the daily specials, though, toothsome takes on traditional bistro fare like roasted sweetbreads, veal cheeks, sole meunière and rabbit with mustard sauce. For over-the-top luxury, we throw in a side of Oestra caviar.
Un-French as it sounds, Christopher's deserves extra credit for putting a healthful spin on many of his rich dishes. Request the KRONOS menu, and you'll meet the health institute's guidelines for optimal health (meats substituted by vegetables). Vive la France!
The only thing we've got more of than so-so Italian restaurants in this town is mediocre Mexican. Yet until someone can come up with the incredible Italian cuisine that is the baby of Acqua e Sale owner Daniel Malventano, we're just chalking up those other Italian places as average shops hawking everyday pizza, pasta and stuff we've seen a thousand times before.
Malventano, though, travels to Italy virtually every year to check on what's new in one of Europe's oldest cuisines. We're glad he makes the effort, because it means we get to feast on delicacies involving black truffle oil, duck prosciutto, white truffle sauce, top-grade carpaccio and escolar, and such things as a perfect verde e bianca salad -- lacing crystal-crisp Bibb lettuce with thin asparagus stalks, chubby wands of palm heart and bitter grapefruit chunks in extra virgin olive oil.
Yes, Acqua e Sale has familiar favorites like veal lasagna, ravioli del giorno (Maryland crab and truffle oil) and capellini con pomodorino freschi (angel hair pasta in a tomato, basil, garlic and olive oil sauce). But to find better renditions? Why, we'd have to book a flight to Italy.
Every city needs a little pizza and pasta place to call its own -- a hole in the wall where people can cozy up with a masterful meatball, a magical marinara, a perfect penne, a ravishing ravioli, a stunning Sicilian sausage pie. Friendly, robust conversation with the owners and with fellow customers just adds to the flavors. Or we can snag a feast and take it home to eat with our very own family.
At La Famiglia, we are family, too, greeted by name after just a few visits. These folks, transplants from Long Island, don't mess around when it comes to mouth-watering manicotti, fettuccine Alfredo, veal scaloppine. We order at the counter, rarely pay more than 10 bucks for a full-size feast, and always, always, end up fat and happy. It's our own little pizza heaven.
Thai food is all about dynamic flavors -- spice, seasonings, sizzle. And Touch of Thai puts much more than just a touch of that into its dishes. This place is nuts for the fiery chile peppers, but in a very, very good way. The taste always shines through its veil of flame.
We're not looking for apologies, just more food, when our lips, tongue and stomach burn after tucking into such smoky delicacies as tod mahn (spicy fish patties with cucumber sauce), larb (minced meat sautéed in lemon juice, red onion and mint), yahm pla meug (lemongrass squid), gaeng goong (red curry shrimp) or phaht Thai (rice stick noodles with chicken and shrimp).
Sure, we can adjust the heat level, but we'd rather trust the kitchen to send out the very best. At Touch of Thai, there's no doubt that there's perfection behind these peppers.