We can't remember how many times we've gone to the theater, or a movie, or simply overslept the dinner hour (hey, we're night owls, and it happens). After 10, we've got no place to go, other than a noisy bar or some place slinging Grand Slam sadness. That's why we're so very happy to have Zen 32, where, no matter the day of the week, we can eat really terrific Japanese food until midnight. Sometimes we lounge on the misted patio, watching the lights of cars whizzing by while we munch on stellar sushi, like the rainbow roll layered with shrimp, salmon, tuna and hamachi; or asparagus with salmon and crab. If we arrive an hour earlier, we can select from the entire menu, an interesting grilled fusion happening (we especially like the sake-steamed fish, featuring Southeast Asian farm-grown Basa fillet wrapped in a sake steamed leaf with fresh steamed vegetables drizzled in Asian Zen sauce; or the chili-glazed shrimp, grilled with a mango, ginger and chili glaze, served with Asian slaw and Thai peanut sauce). Oishii! (In Japanese, that means delicious. Learn it. You'll need it here.)
Readers' Choice: Denny's
Best Breakfast Spot
International House of Pancakes
several Valley locations
Best Downtown Executive Lunch
Durant's
2611 North Central
602-264-5967
Best Romantic Restaurant
The Melting Pot
8320 North Hayden, Scottsdale
480-607-1799
3626 East Ray, Ahwatukee
480-704-9206
Best Healthful Eating
Pita Jungle
1250 East Apache, Tempe
480-804-0234
1949 West Ray, Chandler
480-855-3232
Best Late-night Meal
Denny's
several Valley locations
Best Outdoor Patio
Dos Gringos
4209 North Craftsman Court, Scottsdale
480-423-3800
Best Happy Hour
Applebee's Neighborhood Grill & Bar
several Valley locations
Foodies are so easily bored. But they won't be singing their "been there, done that" song at Medizona, an intriguingly novel restaurant from star chef Lenard Rubin.
Rabbit, fig and pine nut baklava with quail egg and chive sauce? Oh, sure, we had that for lunch. Eggplant tacos with lamb, arugula, Kasseri cheese, cucumber-radish relish and roasted tomato-garlic sauce? Yawn. Yeah, right.
Chances are even the most cultivated culinary diva hasn't experienced such extraordinary pairings as baby greens with roasted goat cheese, sun-dried pears, almond-honey brittle and balsamic-cactus fruit vinaigrette; or charbroiled beef tenderloin with potato-leek gratin, butternut squash, spinach, smoked bacon and provolone-filled green chile on a pool of sun-dried cherry barbecue sauce.
Medizona can get even the most jaded foodie to eat up and take notice.
Jeez, dating is expensive. Dinner and a movie can run $75 plus. (Think about the cost for two: $15 for tickets, $7.50 for watered-down soft drinks, $8 for sacks of stale popcorn, or $7 for boxes of Goobers, and another $40, easy, for steaks afterward.)
At Farrelli's, we can scope out a potential paramour and enjoy a fine meal and a movie for only $43 (Here's the math: tickets, $12; sodas with free refills, $3; juicy Angus cheeseburgers on sourdough rolls with piles of fries, $18; and for dessert, homemade cheesecake, $10). For a first date, there's no debate: It's Farrelli's.
Okay, so we didn't conduct a personal count, but we're taking Wright's word that its wine cellar/private dining room boasts 10,000 bottles. Certainly it looks to be true, with a sea of shimmering bottles just begging to be opened and sampled.
While the wine -- and the resort, built in 1929 and inspired by the desert-design concepts of Frank Lloyd Wright -- may be old, the cuisine is entirely fresh. Chef Rick Boyer's contemporary, lavish style tempts with treasures like grilled veal and sweetbreads with pickled cabbage, pan-roasted sea scallops with celery root risotto and Sevruga caviar, and a chef's five-course tasting menu paired with -- what else? -- wines.
Now that's the Wright way to celebrate wines.
Fine dining has landed at the Scottsdale Municipal Airport, thanks to the Valley's own Channel 3 celebrity Jan D'Atri. This joint's home-style Italian food is so delicious that you'll find us there, even if the only baggage we've got is our childhood. The location's a surprise, until you remember that Scottsdale Airport is frequented by folks who don't want corn dogs, but a maitre d', votive candles, white tablecloths and niceties such as rack of lamb, shrimp and scallop skewers and filet mignon. There's great stuff for us working-class folk, too: terrific panini sandwiches, pasta and sausage. We love the fresh-off-the-bird turkey breast sandwich, grilled with provolone, mozzarella, feta, mushrooms and caramelized onion. D'Atri's pastas fly high, anchored by homemade noodles and stunning sauces. Thanks, D'Atri's, for a fuel bill that's a delight to pay.
From the first seductive aroma of smoking meat and simmering sauces, this artery-busting, fat-packing food demands we EAT UP.
Honey Bear's slogan: "You don't need no teeth to eat our meat." That's true. Tender pieces of pork, beef and poultry fall off the bone before we open our mouths. Sure, we could eat light, maybe subsisting on a piece of chicken and a garden salad. But no, we want to pack it in with a massive combo sandwich (a two-fister marrying our favorite meat choices), moist hot links, and gargantuan slabs of pork ribs.
Sides aren't low-cal, either, but they're luscious -- tubs of sweet-tinged "cowbro" beans and mayo-bound potato salad. We finish our feast with enormous servings of hot-from-the-oven peach cobbler and sweet potato pie.
Honey, that's our idea of a healthy diet.
An event just isn't a success unless the food is fabulous, and Continental Catering is the life of our party. In business since 1966, Continental is our choice for both VIP dinners and family milestone celebrations. For those fancy evenings, go with an elaborate spread of herbed mesquite grilled rack of lamb with smoky tomato jalapeño sauce, tournedos of beef with pâté and Madeira sauce, and hazelnut crusted fillet of Atlantic salmon with red pepper coulis. You can even count on Continental for a mouth-watering picnic. This caterer's core talents are with Southwestern, classic and regional American menus, but they've been known to cut loose with themes like Old New English Christmas fetes or Native American celebrations. If you don't even feel like cleaning the house, Continental can set you up in unique locations such as the Heard Museum, the Arizona Science Center or even Corona Ranch and Rodeo. Continental, you're our toast of the town.
Chefs Eddie Matney and Dave Andrea own two important Valley restaurants, but they've branched out into convenience food, setting up a casual, quick-dining and take-away concept.
World Noodles serves -- what else? -- noodles, cooked to order in a wok and heaped in a big bowl for just $3.95 to $6.50 (most are about $5). For this, we get a healthy soba stir fry, tumbled with broccoli, snow peas, carrots and chicken, beef or tofu in teriyaki sauce. We also favor the drunken veggies, thick udon noodles tossed with enoki mushrooms, broccoli, red peppers, corn, green onions and tofu in a sprightly sake and sesame oil sauce. Among the slightly more sinful selections: beef stroganoff with mushrooms, cabernet cream sauce and horseradish sour cream, or good old mac 'n' cheese, blended with three cheeses, cream and garlic crouton crumbles. So, for good and quick, use your noodle and stop by.
Folks who've never been to Phoenix are convinced that we dine solely on hunks of steak, barbecue beans, baked potatoes and paint-peeling coffee made with eggshells. Leave it to Cowboy Ciao, with its ultra-stylish, spaghetti Western ambiance, to show them creative American cuisine, spiked with influences from Italy, Mexico, and, of course, the Southwest.
The Stetson chopped salad is legendary, and we crave the calamari, tossed with chasoba noodles, sesame vinaigrette, chile oil and daikon radish sprouts. Entrees aren't for the timid, plated with starch and vegetables, and centered by such delights as espresso charred filet mignon (with pan-grilled vegetables, mashed tortilla potatoes, chipotle hollandaise). We endorse the signature dish, too, a fine fry of cremini, button and oyster mushrooms in ancho cream over double-cooked polenta with grilled portabellini, avocado, tomato and cotija cheese. Pure heaven.
Add a dessert of chocolate lottery torte, or Mexican chocolate pot de crème with chipotle cream, plus an inspired, globally encompassing wine list, and we're proud to call this new Phoenix chow our own.
It's easy to miss House of Tricks as you drive by on the two-lane street next to ASU -- and that's part of the reason we love it so. Set, amazingly enough, just steps from a row of Tempe's rowdiest bars and restaurants, this Victorian-inspired 1920s chateau lolls in quiet splendor behind a thick flush of trees, trellises and a picket fence. Sure, other places tout spectacular desert views, but at night -- or when you want to forget you're in tumbleweed country -- this is the place to go to let your cares melt away under the gentle gurgle of a fountain, sheltered by a vine-covered, light-bedecked canopy. Any time of day is right for Tricks' thrilling American contemporary cuisine. For lunch, try smoked ham and Brie on a pumpernickel bagel or grilled trout with chayote slaw. For dinner, kick up the class, with ahi tuna crusted in lavender and herbs and red curry sauce, or molasses-brushed rack of lamb with lemon rosemary mashed potatoes. Best patio dining? That's no Trick question.
Kazimierz shows how terrific the upscale sip-and-nibble concept can be, with a fashionably funky interior, eclectic music, creative wines and superb "small plates" of creative, refreshing snacks. After finding the door (it's hidden in the back, with no sign), snag a cozy, cushy, overstuffed armchair or sofa. Sprawl back amid candles and shrouded lamps, enjoying a magical display of lights behind an elaborate paper-and-gel "stained glass" window along the bar's northern wall.
The best way to eat here is to share sumptuous appetizers: nutty-toned truffle and duck pâté, salmon tartare, and Egyptian flatbreads (pizzas) with toppings like earthy morels and roasted shallots on Brie with truffle oil; or roast lamb, chèvre, figs and balsamic. The best way to drink here is with one of two dozen themed flight selections, each flight a trio of three-ounce pours of different wines. The best way to be merry here? Hey, if we have to tell you that, you're in the wrong place.
The idea of morning sure sounds good: happy chirping birds, gentle dew, rose-kissed clouds. But it's never that way as we stagger all sticky-eyed, wild-haired and crabby-spirited out of bed.
That's the time to treat ourselves to an indulgent breakfast at Squash Blossom, a gorgeous place overlooking a two-and-a-half-acre water playground. Breakfast is an expensive treat -- $10.75 to $14.50 for entrees -- but worth every penny. Petite filet mignon is high style, paired with poached eggs, herbed hollandaise sauce, breakfast potatoes and toast, while corned beef hash kicks it up with chile cilantro hollandaise. For a special experience, go for the Arizona toast, a raisin bread sandwich filled with cactus pear marmalade, dipped in egg batter and served with fig compote. Or swoon over the potato pancake trio, each dainty round with a different topping: smoked salmon, diced onion, tomatoes, cream cheese and capers; beluga caviar, cilantro and sour cream; and pan-smoked trout with creamed horseradish. Oh, what a beautiful morning.
We've been known to stay out a bit past curfew on weekends, and most places roll up the carpet by 10 or 11 p.m. That's why we're so thrilled that LEO takes its "late, early and often" acronym seriously. Until 3 a.m. on Fridays and Saturdays, get a jump-start on breakfast with a fine steak-and-eggs or three-egg ham-and-cheese omelet, both served with home fries and a bagel. Or plow into a first-rate pancake stack, balanced with two eggs, two bacon strips and a sausage link. If it still feels like nighttime, end your long evening with a sandwich -- a full half-pound of primo deli meat (the brisket and the Reuben are both awesome), teamed with steak fries, creamy coleslaw or a potato pancake. Burgers are among the best, including a hefty garlic mushroom model, and even one crafted of salmon. Top it off with a sugar wake-up call -- carrot cake, chocolate blackout cake, coconut cream pie, New York cheesecake, apple strudel or cheese blintzes.
The only problem with Coronado Cafe is that it's so hard to find parking. And, if we show up at high noon, it's so hard to find a table. We don't mince words when telling our lunch dates that they'd better be on time -- this cafe doesn't seat partial parties.
Once we've settled in, though, utopia usurps in this charming home turned gorgeous garden of full-flavored soups, salads and sandwiches. We can justify a life toiling downtown because it places us close to the Gorgonzola walnut salad, tumbled with sliced apples and red onion; or the roasted turkey sandwich, laden with smoked Gouda, cranberry/serrano chutney, red onion and greens on honey whole wheat bread.
Hey, hey, this is our cafe.
Lon's is generally known to be a great place for a nice dinner, and it's often difficult to get a reservation. But it's easy to get a table at lunch, which is strange, given the fact that the outdoor patio is the loveliest place in the whole Valley to sit outside on a nice day. Visitors will be suitably charmed by the old-Arizona authenticity of the Hermosa Inn and its desert landscaping; there's an impressive view of Camelback Mountain, and the food is actually quite good (although this place could easily coast on its scenery and lush setting alone). The best bets on the menu -- besides the side of sweet potato fries, which you should order regardless of how hungry you think you are -- are the salads. These enormous, hearty offerings are definitely not for food-phobic, salad-ordering ladies. Bring your corn-fed Midwestern guests who want to eat well while basking in authentic Sonoran sunshine. You won't be sorry.
This classy supper club gives us hope that, yes, Phoenix will someday have an honest-to-goodness downtown dining scene. Business associates will be impressed with A League of Our Own's 1940s-style elegance, featuring Tiffany-look lamps, plush booths and vintage photos of famous women.
They will also be impressed with your taste in cuisine, as you guide them through an ambitious -- and highly successful -- luncheon menu starring such dishes as confit of artichokes, hoisin duck scaloppine with blackberry and mango wasabi paint, Blue Point oysters with sapphire gin and caviar, and the Jive Turkey, a smoked turkey sandwich on zucchini bread with baby spinach and Turkish fig butter.
In the eyes of our associates, lunch here puts us in, you might say, a league of our own.
Its roots are in Europe, but it has taken firm hold in the Valley. It's the chef's table, an exclusive seating directly off the kitchen, with personal attention from the celebrity chef. With six to eight of our closest friends, we're in for a remarkable seven-course meal, custom-crafted, and with each detail explained by award-winning chef-owner Michael DeMaria -- an incredible bargain at $100 a person. Michael's contemporary American cuisine might include an appetizer of cucumber-wrapped Dungeness crab salad with seared scallop and braised spinach, smoked tomato water and horseradish vinaigrette. Then, arugula salad with Rosti Asian pear, walnut and Maytag blue cheese tart, and lemon-walnut vinaigrette. Next is potato-wrapped sea bass on summer asparagus and roasted shallots with cockle-clam vinaigrette. To clear the palate, an intermezzo of spring sorbet. Our entree this evening is barbecued braised short ribs with sweet corn, baby carrots, onions and fingerling potatoes. Finally, it's some imported cheese, please, and dessert of tiramisu crème brûlée. On an evening such as this, we're just so pleased to be us.
This little place in an Ahwatukee strip mall is aptly named. It's a snob-free zone where everyone feels at home at wine-tasting classes, theme nights and private parties. Best of all, you can stop by anytime, belly up to the bar and sample any of the 40 or so open bottles. Buy some cheese and crackers and hang out for a while. The selection of wines is impressive, but the secret to the place's huge popularity is the hospitality of owners Kathleen and Tom Fordyce, who will warmly welcome you and maybe even join you for a glass or two.
Here it comes, spiraling toward the Earth, a spinning, hot orb that lands with a thundering thud. We're not getting out of the way, though, because it's a pizza, a beautiful feast that's crashed into our table at Cosmic Pizza. It's called the Meteor, and it's out of this world, monstrous with six meats -- pepperoni, sausage, sirloin, Canadian bacon, meatballs and chicken -- cheese and a zingy red sauce. To carry the weight of the toppings, we get the thick-crust version, hand-tossed, seasoned with garlic salt and baked on a stone slab. Houston, our pizza has landed.
We hate going to sports bars where screens are tuned to some obscure sporting event we have no interest in. Or worse, the game is something we care about, but the volume is turned down or the bar chatter is so loud we can't hear the play-by-play. At Damon's, you, the sports fan and diner, are in control. A hybrid family restaurant/sports bar, this place offers not only tasty ribs and other fare, but also power. All the dining booths are arranged facing four enormous screens. Audio devices at each table (kind of like drive-in movie speakers) let you tune in to your favorite match-up or background music and a trivia game. And for the littlest control freaks, Wednesdays are Kids' Nights, featuring cartoons and kiddy trivia on the big screens.
We know where to hunt down the most magical midnight snack: at Christopher's, where from 10 p.m. to midnight Thursday, Friday and Saturday, there's a sumptuous gourmet spread set out for a mouth-watering $9.95.
We choose cheese: selecting from Taleggio, Reblochon, Fourme d'Ambert, Camembert, Stilton and Tete de Moines. We pick pizzas, chomp on cheeseburger and fries, and crave a croque monsieur (a French ham-and-cheese sandwich grilled on a toasted baguette). But what makes our witching hour so wonderful is "little tastes" -- pâté, smoked salmon, tuna tartare, white bean hummus and roasted tomato served on toast. And if we're lucky, the kitchen lavishes us with "leftovers." These are Christopher's specialties that some poor soul was unfortunate enough not to order during regular dinner hours -- sole meunière on Thursday, veal cheeks on Friday and rabbit in mustard sauce on Saturday.
Paired with selections from Christopher's list of 100 wines by the glass, these are snacks with real sustenance and style.
Ah, we miss the days of the dungeons. Time was we could punish an inept private chef by chaining him to the rack, and tossing the leftovers to the crocodiles. Now, our staff is unionized and gets all bent out of shape over a little constructive criticism.
Unless we reserve the ultra-luxe private dining room at the Phoenician resort, in which case we're treated like the royalty we think we are. Every wish is granted, in regal, tantalizing style. The place looks just like a castle, too, replete with Renaissance-era decor, barrel-vaulted ceilings, brick archways, European antiques and a full wall of wines. It's the perfect place to host a gala for our favorite 16 other well-to-do pals, all for a mere $2,000 minimum.
The room does double duty as a wine cellar, servicing the Phoenician's elite restaurants. And this means our custom menu is as good as -- no, better than -- what our fellow guests are enjoying at Mary Elaine's. Better because it's ours, all ours.
Ah, it's good to be king.
How cool is it to take a sudden turn, open a door that looks as if it leads to nowhere, and announce to your companion that you've arrived at your highly select dining secret?
This private party room is a little hole in the wall. It's a hidden hole in the wall, in fact, behind a door set invisibly into the paneled wood wall of the tiny bar called Dick's Hideaway. Making it to Dick's Hideaway is difficult enough on its own -- there's no sign outside. And there's not even a doorknob for the private dining area.
But seek and you shall find a completely charming, comfortable room seating up to 25 people around a grand, copper-topped table and at comfy booth tables lining the wine-bottle-lined walls. Dishes are the non-stuffy sort, featuring creative New Mexican fare like chimayo chicken (stuffed with spinach, sun-dried tomato, poblano chile and asiago cheese); pork tenderloin (marinated and pecan-grilled with red and green chile jelly); and even posole (hominy and pork in red chile broth). Prices are down-to-earth, too, with a room minimum of just $500.
The speakeasies of yesteryear had nothing on this place.
This is a belly-buster, an all-you-can-eat fiesta with five meats (pork, brisket, sausage, chicken and pork spare ribs), served with beans, coleslaw, French fries and garlic bread. At just $14.99, we don't know how this restaurant makes money. Because, while other places might try to trick us with subpar products, the 'cue served here is topnotch, slow smoked over hickory for 14 hours, and paired with a killer, tangy-tart sauce. It's plate after plate of fall-off-the-bone tender meats, until we fall off our chairs, stuffed to a stupor. Oink, oink.
There's something so purely sensual about the setting at Latilla. Tucked into the Sonoran Desert foothills, the restaurant treats us to a symphony of wood, white adobe and Native American weavings. Giant wood posts stand sentry; the room's ceiling is crafted from ocotillo branches (latilla, or "little sticks" in Spanish). We nestle in booths in the intimate, staggered seating areas, staring lovingly into each other's eyes . . . and at the menu.
Love is in the air with appetizers such as the foie gras over creamy polenta with beet slices, fresh berries, and a port reduction. Entrees quicken our heart with delights like seared Chilean sea bass with shrimp pot stickers and crisp chicken in a spicy crayfish broth, and Italian Cowboy veal chop garnished with Sicilian green olives, peppercorns and artichoke hearts.
After dinner, we cuddle on the desert-landscaped patio, spooning in the glow of a fireplace and splashing waterfall. Our whispered sweet nothings are seconded by the faraway howl of a coyote. What's not to love?
"Conference Resort" rarely conjures images of fine dining. And the name describes this property perfectly. It caters primarily to large groups; we can't even get a table without being asked which company we're with.
But, hey, we'll lie about our affiliations if it gets us seated for the surprising sustenance served here. This is old-style class all the way, rich with tableside presentation and a grande dame atmosphere of ornate chandeliers and brocade fabrics. Food is over-the-top classic. Remember appetizers like beef consommé (stocked with root vegetables, tomato concasse and fresh basil), or prawns Provençal, sautéed with garlic and pimientos? Entrees even sound elegant: Lobster Lord Randolph, truffled and flambéed in Courvoisier; and duckling aux framboise with raspberry bigarade sauce. Sunday brunch is something special, too, served with unlimited champagne and made-to-order omelets, eggs Benedict, carved prime rib, smoked salmon and retro-but-loved deviled eggs and thick-sliced pâté.
For creative, quiet, unexpectedly elegant dining, Palm Court is our best frond.
To look at this simple little storefront, you'd never think that its chef-owner, Jeff Flancer, is a graduate of the renowned Culinary Institute of America. All doubts will be put to rest after one bite of any of his creative, full-flavored creations. Just as surprising is the fact that his party platters, which each feed 25, cost an incredibly low $39.99 to $43.75.
That's only $1.59 to $1.75 per person for such delights as green chile mushroom phyllo pockets, baked pesto Brie en croûte, smoked salmon with artichoke hearts and cream cheese, and cold noodle sesame ginger chicken with oriental vegetables. Healthful platters abound, such as salads -- chef, Caesar chicken, albacore tuna, Greek, antipasto or crispy Parmesan chicken. Then there are balsamic portabella mushrooms and sherry-glazed roasted onions with rosemary flatbread, or crispy scallion shrimp won tons with tamari dipping sauce.
Why take a chance on the perfect party? Just order the perfect platter from Flancer's.
Our time is valuable. We don't always have the luxury of a relaxed, hourlong lunch. (Okay, actually we do -- but our bosses are reading this.) But no way, no how, are we going to waste our greenbacks (or our guts) at most drive-through grease pits. Why would we, when we have Miracle Mile delicatessens, where the time between ordering and eating never surpasses five minutes? You can get to-go service, but sit down. Pick the pastrami. Lean and luscious, it's partnered with melted Swiss and hot sauerkraut for the Straw sandwich; with red bell pepper and carrot-spiked coleslaw and Thousand Island dressing for the New Yorker; and with Swiss, lettuce and dressing for the triple-decker. These two-fisters come complete with French fries, potato salad, macaroni salad or coleslaw and a hefty pickle spear, all for about six bucks. Daily specials such as meat loaf and chunky mashed potatoes are priced the same and equally delicious. Fast food, this cheap and this wonderful? That's a miracle.
As Scottsdale has grown up around it, the Pink Pony, owned by the same couple for 50 years, has stayed firmly in its past -- from the large, rose-colored ceramic pony behind the bar, to the comforting retro menu that has long charmed spring training baseball camps -- the Cubs, the Angels, the A's, the Mariners and the Giants.
There's real Arizona history here, with black booths that once seated stars like Billy Martin, Harry Caray, John McNamara and Stan Musial. The jerseys on the walls are from the greatest players, autographed by the best, and hung alongside World Series-issue bats signed by modern-day teams.
There's also welcome value at lunch and dinner: The Pink Pony Special, a hefty sirloin steak complete with soup or salad, baked or French fried potatoes or rice pilaf, hot biscuits and honey, is just $15. Main courses remind us of Sunday dinner at Grandma's: golden pan-fried chicken, genuine calf's liver with bacon and onion, and -- for a fancy treat -- prime rib or barbecued pork ribs.
When you want to remember old-time Arizona, ride on over to the Pink Pony.
The views from this place are pretty enough to eat. We're standing on the patio, mesmerized by the panorama of the Valley from 1,800 feet above the desert. When we move inside for dinner, we take the beauty with us, seated next to floor-to-ceiling windows framing a stunning Arizona sunset. After dinner, we collect for drinks on a gorgeous patio, decorated with a fire fountain and scads of flowers, the flames sending shadows dancing across the virgin mountainscape that cradles the resort property.
The menu offers some notable Mediterranean-influenced favorites: jumbo shrimp slicked in a delightfully wicked lemon-habanero glaze, teamed with glazed mushrooms and roasted pancetta sauce; or ravioli stuffed with ample butter-braised lobster and caramelized shallots in a ghostly rich beurre blanc. Fish, too, is fantastic, such as buttery Coast Chilean sea bass sided with cranberry beans, pequillo peppers and a smoked bacon-lobster jus. Still, in this setting, food is almost an afterthought. Surrounded by such natural, pure Arizona beauty, even cardboard would taste good.
What is it with casual Valley restaurants putting us on a patio where we're face-to-face with the car bumpers that crowd strip malls? Carlsbad Tavern is having none of that. This funky, New Mexican eatery had adapted its building along busy Hayden Road to take advantage of its virtues.
Originally a seafood restaurant, the property wraps around a Disney-style "pier" overlooking an "ocean" that's more blue-painted concrete moat than splashing shore. Thick, tall stucco walls seclude the patio in a cozy, quiet courtyard decorated with wagon wheels, hanging chiles and a fountain.
It's a fine, fair-weather spot to kick back and sip on a major margarita and enjoy specialty dishes like Santa Fe duck ravioli (crispy chipotle pasta with smoked duck and Brie cream sauce), carne adovada or a searingly spicy habanero cheeseburger (with a free glass of milk to extinguish the flames). For a comfortable price -- about $8 at lunch, $15 at dinner -- and a laid-back outdoor experience, park it at Carlsbad Tavern.
We'll gladly pucker up for the pancakes served at Kiss the Cook. We'll surrender a smooch for the seafood omelet, brimming with bay shrimp, crab and broccoli in a smothering of Cheddar cheese. And we'll bust a buss for biscuits, homemade, drowning in country gravy and teamed with our choice of bacon, sausage or country ham. We won't even tell you what we're willing to do for French toast, swimming in real butter and hot syrup, with free seconds.
Once we're stuffed, we summon strength for a quick shopping spree through this wood-floored, cottage-decorated eatery, filling our bags with cozy antique knickknacks. Then, it's home for a nice, long nap.
For breakfast, Kiss the Cook smacks of the best.
When the sun breaks over the horizon, we're inclined to groan and stuff another pillow over our head. We know we need to snack on something to regain our strength, but eggs, bacon, home fries and toast will simply send us back to bed. Day breaks more gently at Café Soleil, a tiny, colorful cafe that's blissfully quiet and stocked with a luxurious selection of homemade goodies, plus a wide assortment of coffees, juice smoothies, creamy chais, espressos, cappuccinos, mochas and iced drinks. The aroma of fresh-baked breads lures us in, where we linger in front of a glass case, admiring beautiful croissants, rolls, pastries, cookies and muffins. There are breakfast bagels, heaped with our choice of lox, tomato, cream cheese, Swiss, American or mozzarella cheeses. On Sundays, we wake up a little later, and select from five special breakfast entrees -- omelets and such -- that change weekly. At Café Soleil, we don't mind that the sun shines in.
It's too difficult to decide what to order from Marquesa's amazing menu. This Mobil Four-Star restaurant is also one of two AAA Five-Diamond restaurants in Arizona, and serves cuisine from one of Spain's best-kept secrets: Catalan, blended with Italian and French influences. The feast never ends at this market-style brunch, with highlights like sautéed shrimp with saffron potatoes and truffles cradled in licorice mustard-seed sauce; fire-roasted couscous; paella Valenciana with lobster, chicken, pork, shellfish, chistora and saffron rice cooked in clay casuelas; braised quail; veal empanada; turkey with hazelnut polenta; and duck with cauliflower purée, lentil and sausage. And, of course, caviar. Our single lament? The open-air extravaganza is served only from mid-September through June.
Marquesa is definitely the best of the brunch bunch.
It's another one of those days. The boss is being completely unreasonable, expecting us at work before noon, when we only get up at 11 a.m. so we won't be late for our lunch break. So we soothe our ruffled dignity by hiding in the cozy heart-of-downtown darkness that is Monroe's. Descend weathered wooden stairs to reach the dim, candlelit and red-light-bulbed interior of this live jazz club/cafe. Once we can see, we find dark wood walls with brick, with some Christmas lights twinkling in the black, low-slung ceiling.
This place has excellent bar food, most items priced at less than $6. Onion soup is a smooth starter, the beefy, not-too-sweet broth buried under mounds of soft, hot provolone. A cheese steak is terrific, too, packed with quality, lacy-thin beef and buckets of melted provolone on a soft hoagie roll that's been grilled to a wonderful crust.
Ah, now that's what we need to cure those big boss blues.
The new El Portal hasn't been in business long, but this little house turned eatery has become a fast favorite among the downtown crowd, with some of the best Mexican food anywhere in metro Phoenix. Maricopa County Supervisor Mary Rose Wilcox and her politico husband Earl refurbished the old, long-shuttered facility last year with simple booths and tables, accented with terra cotta tile. Parking is plentiful, but the place does fill up, and beware -- it closes at 2 p.m.
An early arrival is well worth it. (The cafe opens at 7:30 a.m., and breakfast, by the way, is served all day.) Service is quick and the menu complete -- from complimentary chips and salsa, through à la carte regulars such as tacos, burros and tostadas and combination plates with treats such as beef machaca. Drink refills arrive before you even ask, and if you're lucky, Mary Rose herself will bring your meal to the table.
Now that's what we call a good public servant!
Pity the poor dieter who believes that eating well has to taste bad. These pitiful creatures have never embraced the power of fresh ingredients, fats served only in restrained portions, and everything snapped up with exotic spices. At Green Leaf Cafe, healthful dining goes global, influenced by the cuisines of Persia, the Mediterranean, Italy, America and Mexico, even Cajun and the Orient. Vegetables take center stage, partnered with tofu, and accented, if we choose, by modest servings of chicken, turkey, fish and eggs -- but never any red meat. Even the simplest vegan plate soars with the magic of fresh herbs and spices -- oregano, basil, mint, dill, fennel, cumin, garlic, capers, parsley, ginger, fenugreek, cilantro and more. For a sweet but not sinful finish, we pick pumpkin pie, all natural and vegan, of course. Green Leaf is a healthful new leaf we're happy to turn over.
In some restaurants, getting an up-close view of the kitchen and the folks who are slaving away over the proverbial hot stove might just spoil your appetite. But at Guedo's, watching the cooks work adds to the sheer joy of eating their signature tacos. We love waiting in line to order here, because while Spanish music blares from the speakers, these guys sing, dance, laugh and bang their pots around. They belt out romantic ballads at the top of their lungs, hooting and hollering to the salsa songs. ¡Arriba!
Talk about cooking lessons. We've always loved Chef Razz Kamnitzer's creative Mediterranean-inspired dishes. Now, with his newly relocated restaurant, we can sit at the bar directly overlooking the master in action in the tiny, galley-style kitchen. We study Kamnitzer performing his ballet, his neatly tied signature ponytail spinning as he makes it look easy to work on a half-dozen orders at a time. The only problem? Seeing these dishes prepared makes us want to order them all. Duck and vegetable spring rolls, escargots, crespelles, cashew-crusted salmon with hibiscus broth, bouillabaisse -- we've got a severe case of entree envy.
Why would we let something as superficial as a fork get in the way of genius? Nothing comes between us and the incredible pizzas crafted by chef Halim Nefic. His pies aspire to art, spun in whisper-thin circles, topped with the freshest, most vibrant ingredients, and baked in a wood-burning oven to crisp, perfect contentment.
Dough is made fresh daily and hand-spun. Tomatoes are hand-crushed and blended with special spices, and cheese is mozzarella, also lovingly made by hand. So that's how we eat these lovelies: by hand. The 12-inch pies are said to feed two, but that's only if we're sharing our adored Four Seasons blend: tomato sauce, mozzarella, imported Italian prosciutto, wood-roasted mushrooms, fresh sliced tomato, Parmesan, black olives and artichoke hearts.
Two thumbs up!
As with any business presentation, preparation is key. So study up on Gregory's menu before bringing that Fortune 500 bigwig client to the restaurant. You'll want to impress him or her with your world-class knowledge of fine cuisine and wines. And if any Valley restaurant tests your skills, it's Gregory's. Starters stun with ethereal combinations like salmon ceviche with white-bean hummus, parsley-scallion oil and salmon roe; and pan-seared Hudson Valley foie gras with sweet-potato tart, strawberry-rhubarb compote and 20-year-old balsamic vinegar. Entrees entice, starring delicacies like lion's paw scallop in sweet vermouth lobster broth with micro arugula and foie butter; or grilled Wagyu Kobe beef with nori-wrapped wasabi risotto and Kobe beef won ton. Service is impeccable, the setting warm and ultra-luxe. In short, Gregory's will make you look so special your clients won't even blink when, over dessert, you tell them you're doubling your fees.
Thriving for several decades in a former IHOP A-frame, "The Don," as regulars affectionately refer to it, can never be accused of lacking atmosphere. Go in -- hungry, of course -- and munch thin, hot chips and admire the year-round, Mylar Christmas decorations that spin and twinkle lazily in the manufactured breeze. Vintage bullfighter portraits compete with velvet paintings and more contemporary (but equally bizarre) prints, while oldies ooze out of a radio whose dial hasn't budged in years. Check out your dining companions: lone curmudgeons, young moderns, and big families with the occasional screaming child. Order the heavenly cheese crisp, heaped with guacamole; chat with chipper waitress Tami; and ask for the green ketchup for a real visual treat. More good news: All this atmosphere comes cheap at the only sit-down restaurant where two can enjoy dinner for under $10 -- and where it's always Christmas, to boot.
Divorce? Death in the family? Nothing that a little meat loaf and mashed potatoes can't fix. Because we turn to comfort food during difficult times, it had better be nice food. No hard edges, nothing challenging, no effort involved. Nonni's Sunday Chicken, which is always on the menu at Rancho Pinot Grill, is a hearty, soul-satisfying bowl of love. To describe it as wine-braised chicken and vegetables served over crunchy polenta cakes doesn't capture the most comforting aspect of this dish: its texture. This chicken asks nothing of you -- it just helpfully falls off the bone, as though it knows you've had a hard day. Or perhaps it senses that you shouldn't be trusted with a knife.
This is the fanciest fast food to be found. Everything here is prepared to order, with fresh ingredients, and with sauces and dressings made from scratch. The family-run cafe keeps it simple but satisfying with a Hawaiian-Asian menu, meaning stir fries and rice bowls (no extra charge for white meat chicken!), teriyaki-pineapple-chicken salad, or a Big Kahuna burger, bringing a third of a pound layered with American and provolone cheeses, Canadian bacon, a pineapple ring and mayo. Milk shakes are handmade, and instead of plastic-toned soft-serve, thereÕs the premium BertoÕs gelato, in coconut-lime or mango-raspberry. Still, everything costs less than $6 for an entire meal, including sandwich, cooked-to-order shoestring French fries and a soda.
Food of this caliber requires some patience. It takes a few minutes to get fed, since the cook actually prepares dishes instead of sliding them prewrapped from a warming tray. But when weÕre in a rush, we just call ahead, and CJÕs has our order waiting at a drive-through window (where we push a button under the window to let staff know weÕre there). Such luxury, without even leaving our car. Makes our heart go vroom!
Sometimes, even before we rub the sleep from our eyes, we've already decided what we'll be having for breakfast. That's because the early morning fare served at New York Bagels 'n Bialys visits us in our dreams. The selection offered in this Jewish deli is mind-boggling, with almost three dozen delectable dishes. The Rabin family uses recipes handed down for more than 100 years. We love the traditional dishes -- real Brooklyn lox scrambled with onions and eggs; a deli omelet groaning with corned beef, pastrami and melted cheese; or homemade corned beef hash with three eggs. We appreciate the offbeat, too -- the Reuben omelet with corned beef, grilled sauerkraut and Swiss; or the filling Philly beef omelet, packed with steak, onions, peppers, mozzarella and mushrooms. Whatever we get, we're not going away hungry, since each plate comes with a heap of crisp-skinned home fries, choice of tomatoes or cottage cheese, and a bagel or bialy. Bagels are made fresh from homemade dough, fat-free and sugar-free, with no additives or preservatives. Then they're boiled, and baked on both sides for optimum chewy-crustiness.
Readers' Choice: The Good Egg
The credit begins with Douglas Rodriguez, celebrity chef from back East, and father of the unique cuisine now known as Nuevo Latino. He's the big name behind Latin-influenced Deseo. But the award goes to Deseo's actual chef de cuisine, Mark Dow, who is flawlessly crafting Rodriguez's recipes and bringing brand-new excitement to the Valley's dining scene.
We rarely see arepas locally, and never like this, the Cuban corn cakes lavish with raw quail egg, caviar and crème fraîche. We've never had such spectacular ceviche, either, such as a "rainbow" presentation of sashimi-grade slabs of layered halibut and salmon, and of ahi with red and green chiles in a brilliant marinade of soy sauce, citrus juices, red onions and cilantro. And there's true genius behind a clever plate of plantain-crusted halibut, pan-seared with sliced banana, sautéed spinach, bacon and cherry tomatoes.
Deseo is Spanish for "desire." With a ravishing menu like this, there's no question we do.
Readers' Choice: Bar Nun
Time was, not so long ago, that it was difficult to find even basic ingredients like cilantro in local grocery stores. Fennel was a plastic doohickey we used to change our car's oil, "greens" meant iceberg lettuce, and pizza came from Domino's. But Craig and Kris DeMarco have taken our fair Valley into the big leagues, with La Grande Orange, a Berkeley-esque grocery/deli/pastry shop/sit-down cafe/coffee house/wine store and pizzeria. They've divided the shop into a culinary co-op of independent local food artisans (a pastry and cake wizard, a master bread baker, a produce expert, a fruit genius, etc., all share the space). A highlight is the on-site pizza god, handcrafting pies from natural sourdough fermented crust; organic, seasonal vegetables brought in daily by local growers; homemade meats and cheeses; and herbs so fresh they're plucked in bunches from silver tubs in the store's produce section.
We can buy retro candy (Pop Rocks!), and select from a dizzying array of olive oils or pestos. We can feel oh-so cosmopolitan lounging with our pooch on the patio of the adjacent Java Garden coffee shop. We no longer even blink to find simple breakfast fare composed of once considered ultra-luxe smoked salmon on an English muffin with cream cheese, capers and onion. Lunch is modern and magnificent with a croque monsieur, layered with ham, tomato, spicy mustard, Gruyère and egg. Dinner, of course, is pizza, perhaps Wednesday's special of fennel, organic greens and goat cheese.
This is the new, cutting-edge Phoenix we know and love, and we say thanks to the Orange for making our lives so grande.
Fry bread actually isn't an authentic Indian dish (trust us). It comes from the time that white settlers arrived in the Valley hundreds of years ago. Two cultures have come together in a most marvelous fashion, and fry bread has become a favorite taste of Arizona. For all its history, there's only one place in town that truly does the treat justice in our book, and that's Fry Bread House. The creations are hot and fresh, virtually greaseless, a pillowy puff peeking through the lightest veil of vegetable oil. Meals come as golden brown taco-style pockets, stuffed with delights like red chile, vegetarian (smoky beans, green chiles, produce and sour cream) or a wickedly spicy chorizo beef combo.
Kazimierz is such a fun, upbeat place that instead of a typical happy hour, it features "early evening hours of joy." Who couldn't have a great time at such a stylish hideaway as this, a dark, intimate cave decorated like a castle with lots of wood, stone and stained glass? Your date will think you're totally hip, just knowing how to find the joint. There's no sign, and the front door is hidden within a breezeway. You can toast your potential beau with exotic wines, chosen from a menu brimming with some 1,300 labels (the indecisive will appreciate the flight samplings). Cozy sofas lend themselves to comfortable snuggling; if things are going well, you can retreat to one of the private tables hidden behind red velvet drapes. In case you find you're so smitten you get tongue-tied, you can hide under the cool tones of live jazz, or KazBar's playful CD mixes. And how cute is the menu, with "global" plates designed for snacking and sharing: things like two-cheese fondue pot with apple slices and bread, or flatbread of house-made focaccia rock shrimp, smoked Gouda, buffalo mozzarella and pumpkin seeds.
Who says experiencing a "foodie fantasia" has to be some high-priced, completely complicated, rich and crazy (and expensive) undertaking? Fate chef Johnny Chu proves that the magic of fine food comes in complete respect for the most simple ingredients, left to their pure flavors and nudged to excitement by lightly applied but highly creative sauces. His Asian cuisine doesn't require elite recipes, fashioned primarily from vegetables. We can add in our choice of tender chicken breast, quality beef, shrimp or terrific deep-fried tofu, then select our sauces. Chu, born and raised in Hong Kong, does more with sauces than many of our best Valley chefs.
Real foodies like funky, of course, and Chu serves that up and more. His restaurant is also an art gallery and music salon, set in an old house in a questionable neighborhood. What's not to love?
Wow, if we had way, way too much money to burn, this is where we would do it. This concept is a full restaurant, with a full staff and a full gourmet menu, but it's designed for just a single party. As in one table, seating just two to 12 guests. We like to think of it as our own private Mary Elaine's, complete with fancy Reidel stemware, fresh custom flowers, a live baby grand player or any custom music we desire, custom scented candles, and stunning views from atop Eagle Mountain. Our evening brings six-course designer dinners of cheese, appetizer, salad, soup, entree and dessert (perhaps oysters with saffron, habanero oil, spinach and Parmesan; then prime New York strip pan-blackened with chile garlic butter, garlic-red jalapeño mashed potatoes). Our private (of course) sommelier helps us select from 300-plus bottles of wine, or 125 choices by the glass. And for the privilege, all we need to do is shell out $195 (for a basic dinner for two), up to $1,775 for a seafood indulgence, including wines and champagnes, for 12. The rich truly are different from us, and this is why.
Are we inside? Are we outside? It can be difficult to tell the difference at Postino. The place is a refurbished post office, and what used to be loading doors are now retractable walls that open up to an expansive patio. Whichever side we're on, it's all beautiful, with walls of wine, royal-toned paint, an opulent mahogany bar and cushy sofas. The music throbs, with jazz, blues and reggae, and we fill our gullets with the best bruschetta around: huge slabs of bread topped with a rainbow of flavors that we pick and choose. What goes with wine (some 200 bottles as an inventory) but cheese? And Postino has it, specialty wedges paired with nuts and fruit. This is definitely a place to see and be seen, even if we're really sitting in a parking lot of an old mail-sorting station. It's still the coolest patio performance anywhere.
Readers' Choice for Best Outdoor Patio: Sugar Daddy's
In its earlier days, Greasewood Flats was known only to a few folks lucky enough to have discovered the little place hidden off a dirt road in the middle of nowhere. Those folks included John Denver and Glen Campbell, who would do impromptu performances. Today, the circa-1883 former stagecoach bunkhouse is more widely known, feeding up to 400 people a day. And that includes us. On any given evening, you'll find us cozied up in the rustic bar, or, better yet, at one of the picnic tables outside. We kick back under the canopy of trees, listen to music, and chat with our pals. A cold beer, a grilled-to-order hamburger, and when we time it just right, a spectacular sunset over the mountains soaring to the west -- does life get any better?
We read somewhere that when political/royal structures were built in the old days, they were made to be as huge, ostentatious and overwhelming as could be, so as to intimidate visitors from other countries. So imagine bringing that finicky client to the Sanctuary, situated on 53 acres on the side of posh Camelback Mountain, with breathtaking views of the north Valley, including ooh-la-la Paradise Valley.
If the view doesn't bring your client to quivers, we guarantee the cuisine will. Executive chef Charles Wiley has earned international acclaim for his skills, focusing on farm-fresh American with Asian accents. Spinach and goat cheese casserole will have your client so distracted you can propose the most outrageous idea and it'll be a winner. Roasted duck breast with garlic polenta, wilted spinach and orange tamarind glaze? That client will be in such a swoon, he'll sign any contract you propose. As the saying goes, the best way to win someone over is through his or her stomach. Here, the philosophy is elemental to success.
The last thing we want when we're enjoying a luxury resort dinner is to feel like we're eating a luxury resort dinner. That's because so many resorts these days are enormous corporations, with sterile, appeal-to-the-masses menus that have us yawning in our caesar salad, roasted chicken and crème brûlée. Not T. Cook's, though. At T. Cook's, we feel like we're dining in someone's private dream. It's the dream of a gardener, given carte blanche to create an Eden that invites long romantic walks along winding pathways embracing the Royal Palms property. It's the dream of an interior decorator, who has fulfilled our every fantasy of ambiance, with luxurious Southwestern decor and intimate, elegant seating. It's the dream of a chef, who delights us at every meal, and surprises us at every season. Where else can we loll in such decadent dishes as cream of spinach soup with nutmeg and spiced duck confit; or scallops with red pepper gnocchi, fiddlehead ferns, leeks and carrot curry jus, all roasted in a giant fireplace before our very eyes? T. Cook's harvests our local organic farms for the finest fare, too, something no big corporate resort likely would do. A tip of our toques to T. Cook's!
We're not vampires. Really. But we do admit to having a certain aversion to sunlight. It's just so hot. And bright. But when we want to chill out and calm down, we make tracks for Durant's, a Valley legend since 1950. In good, old-fashioned style, Durant's keep the lights turned way down low, even during the lunch hour. If there are any windows in this joint, we haven't found them. The room is cloaked instead by deep red booths and walls, and black-topped tables, and manned by classic black-garbed waiters with sleepy attitudes. The menu is retro calming, too, with traditional selections like a beautifully juicy broiled T-bone. The meat is broiled on mesquite; we can see it sizzling as we come in the real entrance to the restaurant -- the back door, through the kitchen. This is hefty food to eat while shielded from the screeches of day, like "Fat Man's Specials" of thick-cut top sirloin, a full-pound hamburger, and even a 48-ounce porterhouse. Yeah, we could skimp and get an albacore tuna sandwich on Karsh's rye, with coleslaw or cottage cheese, but Jeez, we're at Durant's. It's nice and dark. We can eat whatever we want, get as messy as we want, take a nap, even, and no one will ever see us. Cell phones are strictly outlawed.
Sundays are for sleeping in. Unless we've got a reservation for brunch at El Chorro, in which case we might not sleep Saturday night at all. Brunch is served in the cool months, October through May. El Chorro is stunningly beautiful, nestled below the red cliffs of Echo Canyon of Camelback Mountain. It's historic, built in 1934 as a school for girls. As a resort, it's played host to celebrities like Clark Gable and Milton Berle. Many of the staffers are original characters, including the owners, Joe and Evie Miller (Joe started there as a bartender in 1952). The spread is much more intriguing than the typical eggs, bacon and Danish buffets, and excitingly retro. The magic begins with free sticky buns (homemade cinnamon rolls). Then it's on to eggs Benedict (classic, with turkey, filet mignon or vegetarian), a Spanish omelet, curried chicken salad, salmon fettuccine, chicken livers and eggs, chipped beef, beef stroganoff, or shrimp Louie. Now that's worth waking up for.
There are times when just another meal of mainstream Italian, Mexican or American just won't do. We live on the edge, darn it, and our dinner needs to celebrate our daring, dashing nature.
Food doesn't get any more exciting than at Manila Cafe. It's Filipino, a dramatic blend of Malay, Chinese and Spanish, with hints of Indian, Mexican, Arab and American influences. For real adventure, we often leave the ordering up to the friendly family that owns the place. Just bring us what's best today.
This means we sit at our table in the tiny store for hours on end, nibbling at plates of things that we can't pronounce but that are mesmerizing with multilayered flavors of vinegar, black pepper, garlic, anchovy and ginger. Perhaps we'll sample bulalo (beef kneecap with vegetables), binagoongang baboy (sautéed pork with fish sauce, tomatoes, onion and garlic) and pritong bangus (fried milkfish). If we're a bit frightened of an unfamiliar fare, we're offered freebie taste spoons of dishes like afritadang manok (juicy sautéed chicken with tomatoes, onion and bell pepper), or dinuguan (a surprisingly tasty dish of pork with pork blood sauce, pork ear, vinegar, black pepper and jalapeño over white rice). We'd never have imagined the charms of pinakbet otherwise, bringing a wicked stew of string beans, tart bittermelon, okra, meaty eggplant and chunks of skin-on pork boiled in anchovy sauce.
There's no doubt our madcap side is well-fed here, with far-out but fantastic assemblies like pochero, a plate of pork, beef or chicken sautéed in tomato sauce alongside Spanish sausage, bananas, potatoes and cabbage. Wild thing -- Manila Cafe, that is -- we think we love you.
Frankly, we have all the view we need when we dine with our honey -- that face, those eyes. But we have to admit, it's mighty romantic to do our staring in a sumptuous setting, for when we do look away, the surroundings should be at least as gorgeous as our companion. For that special view, we are smitten with Acacia, and particularly its Spanish-style balcony. It's a semi-private veranda, just a small collection of tables lit by flickering votives, and done in rich wood. We feel absolutely swallowed up in the cocoon of the high Sonoran Desert loping below us, and the intense drama of the sunset over the Pinnacle Peak mountains just beyond. There are more than 40 acres of open resort property for our pleasure, lavish with towering saguaro, ocotillo cactuses and sagebrush. Really, after we've had enough of staggering summer heat, all it takes is a trip to Acacia to remind us why we live here (yes, we can appreciate the views through the windows, too, when we dine inside in the AC). The icing on this cake? Luscious steak house cuisine that has landed Acacia a Four Star rating. It's the perfect addition to the stars in our eyes.
This must be the place to be since we've seen Governor Janet Napolitano and her entourage of burly security guards dining here (what they ate, we don't know -- the goons wouldn't let us near her table). Secrets can be spilled here, because with the din of closely packed important shirt-and-tie clientele, nobody is listening to anyone but themselves. The waiters don't bug us, either, waiting until we've stopped talking to dive in for our orders. We know what we like for a classy midday repast -- trout amandine (with roasted almonds in lemon white wine sauce), angel-hair shrimp feta, or calamari steak with tomatoes, capers, olives and basil. This almost feels like New York, actually, with the restaurant based at the bottom of a high-rise, pretty much hidden from the road, and altogether exclusive.
Readers' Choice: Durant's
There's something exciting about watching a professional chef at work. The skill, the flair, the panache of a trained restaurant talent. We've never quite mastered the art, but with the Monastery, we can pretend we have. Here, at these casual, artsy restaurants, we get to be the chef ourselves. We like the original Indian School location the best, taken as we are with the rickety 80-year-old home tucked away under weeping willows, but the other two shops are endearingly similar. While our buddies play volleyball, horseshoes, Ping-Pong and shuffleboard, we man a barbecue and grill burgers, chicken, steaks, pork chops, Polish sausage or a vegetarian garden burger (if we need assistance, one of the staffers -- dressed in brown monk robes -- will help us manage the flames). We sip some beer or wine, select some sides (potato salad, salad, chips and salsa, bread and cheese board). This is one restaurant meal we'll never be sending back.
Ever wonder how you can be so busy, yet so broke? So when your long hours and lean wallet get to you, treat yourself to a meal at Cherryblossom.
There's nothing more expensive than $10 on this lengthy menu of big, tasty noodle dishes, and most ring in at $5 to $8. The variety is constantly interesting -- Japanese, Thai, Korean, Italian, and even some offbeat Japanese-Italian fusion recipes. The setting is soothing -- the place is fast service, but instead of a cheapie snack shack, it's a real sit-down affair.
You'll love the yakisoba, sautéed with fresh vegetables, plus chicken or seafood (shrimp, scallop, squid and octopus). Korean spicy beef is sizzling, over clear, egg white or potato noodles. For a lighter nosh, try the pasta primavera, loaded with eggplant, tricolor bell pepper and sweet onion under marinara sauce.
You know where to get fast food, cheap and delicious. Just use your noodle -- Cherryblossom's noodle, that is.
Okay, we confess: We eat more than just lunch at My Florist Cafe. We have breakfast there every Friday, because we can't get enough of their yummy baked oatmeal. And you'll find us there several nights a week, digging into the superlative pear salad and grooving to the impossibly swell stylings of pianist Nicole. But most of the time we're there midday, elbow-to-elbow with folks who know that this is the chic place to break bread. Even if we're craving lunch at 11 p.m. we get what we came for, because all of My Florist's lunchtime specialties are available all the time. Day or night, sandwich or salad, My Florist is our all-the-time favorite lunch hangout.
Readers' Choice: Durant's
Our brain is pounding. Our stomach is churning. Our eyes hurt, our mouth tastes like old eggs, and we've got that heavy, guilty misery that can only mean one thing: We drank too much again last night.
Perhaps we should punish ourselves for our indiscretion with the evil spirits, but aren't we already suffering enough? Darn right we are, so now it's time to treat ourselves to the only thing that'll make us feel better -- a huge, fattening, filling breakfast to soak up all that alcohol.
JP is our little cocoon for mornings like these. It's always genteel quiet in the tiny shop, no matter how busy it gets. It's dark, decorated in lots of black and slender mirrors, with soothing jazz music that makes us feel classier than our escapes of the evening before would suggest. The food is fresh and fantastic, with amenities we can't find elsewhere: hot-dog-size Hormel sausage links, thick-cut Hormel bacon and dry-cured ham, golden biscuits with chunky sausage gravy, billowy oven-baked apple pancakes, Belgian waffles and tasty daily specials like quiche or tomato-fresh-herb-goat-cheese omelets.
Coffee is strong, hot and bottomless. Boy, we feel almost good enough to go out tonight and get drunk all over again.
After slaving over a hot desk all day long, who really wants to face an hour or more working in the kitchen for dinner?
Still, we'd like our families to enjoy a healthful, tasty, home-cooked meal, even if it isn't cooked in our own home. So it's Elie's takeout to the rescue! We love this tiny, family-run quick-stop casual shop where pretty much everything on the Mediterranean and American menu is homemade. Our family members with the simplest tastes love the straight stuff -- hot and cold subs fashioned from Boar's Head meats, a fine BLT and grilled cheese, and burgers. More adventurous types lust after the Greek specialties, like magical grape leaves stuffed with rice, tomatoes and garbanzo beans, dipped in silky-tart yogurt spiked with cucumber, garlic and mint. And we've been known to make an entire meal out of tabbouleh, a refreshing salad of chopped parsley, tomato, cracked wheat, lemon juice and olive oil, with some hot pita bread on the side. All food is prepared to order, but it's done with speed -- we never wait more than a few minutes before we're tramping our treasures out the door.
How the architect managed to figure out how to dig a wine cellar under the historic converted home that is Lon's, we'll never know. All we can say is that he did it, and beautifully. This brand-new room is hidden back behind the bar, behind a scrolled gate, and down a steep, winding flight of rock stairs. The temperature drops up to 30 degrees as we make the descent, and as we round the bend, we're presented with one of the most gorgeous private dining rooms we've ever seen. If there's no romance in the air in this room, lined with racks of wine bottles, crafted out of stone and centered with a heavy wood table dressed with candles, then this couple has no chance. There's no room charge, either, with menu and wine selections from Lon's seasonal offerings (adore that cow "q" Kobe beef, or the Peruvian seafood grill). It can be just us, or, if we want to shout our love out to the rooftops, we can invite up to six other couples. The manager tells us his servers often feel the need to announce when they're approaching the room -- after all, mood lighting, mood food, mood ambiance, and, well, it sure puts
us in the mood.
Readers' Choice: The Melting Pot
When we're worn out, the only thing we want to do for dinner is eat over the kitchen sink at home. Unfortunately, it's hard to find friends who want to do that with us. So on those nights, we ask them to meet us at Roaring Fork, where it's almost as comfortable, casual and homey. These people understand the need to feed at a low-key bar. It's still pretty, in one of the most bustling, beautiful people spots in the Valley. And it's still got some of the most interesting, delicious, well-priced nibbles to be found anywhere. The "saloon" menu is available in the bar only, from 7 to 10 p.m. It includes thrills like green chile pork stew with jack cheese and buttered flour tortillas; a half chicken rotisserie-roasted over pecan wood with queso anejo and charred tomato salsa; or smoke-roasted barbecued pork ribs braised in Dr Pepper and chiles. Best of all, the plates run less than $10 each, and we don't even have to do the dishes.
When is something old actually something new? When it's old as in authentic, but when it's new to Valley taste buds. And the Mexican food served at Los Sombreros is excitingly new. This isn't the typical gringo ground beef taco with Cheddar cheese, but the regional cuisine of and around Oaxaca. That means some exotica in ingredients, like cotija (dry crumbly white cheese), rajas (poblano chile strips), string-style white Oaxacan cheese, and cilantro crema. That means deep ethnic food, with things like mole poblano, a Puebla dish incorporating some 30 ingredients. That means high-class staples, like free-range chicken from Young's Farm in Dewey.
Often, dishes are unexpected, like tacos de birria de chiro (braised goat), and chilaquiles de camarónes (a comfort casserole of corn tortilla strips and shrimp simmered in salsa verde, jack cheese and crema). Even dessert is different here, so old, so new, with homemade vanilla ice cream spiked with toasted pumpkin seeds. It's a brave, nueva frontier here at Los Sombreros.
Resort life can be harsh. First, there's the decision of which one of six pools to swim in. Then, there's the tough call of which one of eight restaurants to dine at. And finally, we've all suffered the travails of finding a good tropical drink by the pool, without having to drip-dry across the courtyard to get it. Luckily, the JW Marriott Desert Ridge caters to convenience. You don't even have to get out of the pool. Just swim on over to the Just A Splash Pool Bar & Grill and order a fuzzy navel or a piña colada. The bar specializes in tropical drinks, but it's got grub, too, including burgers, pizzas, salads, hot dogs and sandwiches, which begs the question: Does the "wait 30 minutes after eating" rule apply if you're already in the pool?
We love fancy hotels, but we don't like getting gussied up, particularly on a Sunday morning. That's why the brunch at the Hyatt's Squash Blossom is so perfect. No one expects you to dress up. Oh yeah, and don't get us started on the food. Well, since you asked, we recommend that you starve yourself all day Saturday, because this is a serious pig-out. Along with the piles of fresh fruit, omelets cooked to order and mounds of baked goods, the Squash Blossom offers both paella and Caesar salad stations, as well as carved meats.
Loosen those sweatpants, and belly up to the omelet bar. Readers' Choice: The Phoenician
If the Pink Pony were a big, nasty redhead, we'd plant one right on her over-lipsticked kisser. You see, so much of what passes for the restaurant industry in this Valley of pawnshops and palm trees is so corporate and lacking in class that the historic Pink Pony looks better the longer we dwell here. Blimey, the Pink Pony's been around since
Truman was Prez, y'all. Now that's history. Moreover, the Pink Pony has served such baseball legends as Joe DiMaggio, Ted Williams, Willie Mays and Billy Martin. The place is a veritable shrine to the game of baseball with framed jerseys from the likes of Sammy Sosa and Gene Autry. And its late owner Charlie Briley was instrumental in bringing the Cactus League to the Valley. But even if you know as much about America's Game as a hedgehog does about rocket science, the Double P should still appeal to you, assuming you have an ounce of style in your corpus. Just pay a visit on a Friday or Saturday night, ease into one of the slightly worn, black vinyl booths, order a stiff drink and a fat steak, and chill like Joltin' Joe did in the day. By the time you make it to your second cocktail, the lounge singer will be halfway into a finger-poppin' version of "Mack the Knife," and it'll be like you slipped through a wrinkle in time.
We love the drive up to Sanctuary, the super-chic hotel nestled up against the north side of Camelback Mountain, and we love the fiery hot wasabi nuts they serve in the cozy bar. After a cocktail or two at elements, the beautifully arranged bottles behind the bar twinkle, particularly at twilight. Or maybe it's just the cocktails. Either way, this is a perfect spot to end the day, just a short drive to either downtown Scottsdale or the Biltmore.
Cheers! Readers' Choice: elements
The lobby of the Biltmore is so elegant, you just can't help but feel your best as you sink into a chair in the lobby bar and eye that brand-new guy or gal. Good choice. A drink is the perfect first date. If you like each other, you can eat dinner at the hotel restaurant, or head a few blocks south to Biltmore Fashion Park, which houses several fine dining options. If there's a lull in the conversation, you can count on the lobby bar at the Biltmore for some prime people-watching -- or charm your date with some little-known facts about the hotel's history ("Did you know that Irving Berlin wrote 'White Christmas' outside at the pool here?").
Just think -- if the date goes really well, you're just steps from the hotel check-in desk. Readers' Choice: Oregano's Pizza Bistro
One of the first things we do as soon as fall arrives is call House of Tricks for a lunch reservation. We love to sip a raspberry iced tea (the trick is real raspberries) on the patio in front of this decidedly non-chain restaurant right off Mill Avenue.
There's still enough hustle and bustle to keep our eyes busy as we watch the downtown Tempe and Arizona State University traffic, and the best part is that we feel like we're guests at someone's home, dining under a vine-covered trellis. Evenings are equally delightful at the outdoor bar, and the food is consistently some of the best we've had in town. Readers' Choice: Mickey's Hangover
You think you know "The Girl From Ipanema" until you've heard it played by Nicole Pesce, the resident pianist at My Florist Cafe. Ditto "Flight of the Bumblebee," which she's been known to pair with Elton John's "Rocket Man" or any of several Jelly Roll Morton numbers. Is it any wonder, then, that folks come from far and wide to listen to this amazingly talented lass play everything from Rachmaninoff to Billy Joel, in a signature style that's part Tchaikovsky, part Eurolounge, and always very groovy? During a standard six-hour set, Pesce (who's played with Buddy Greco and once toured the country with the Jerry Lewis Orchestra) is likely to shift from Franz Liszt to Frank Sinatra and on into her infamous ABBA medley, nodding and smiling all the while as if to say, "Hey, music is music, pal." Somehow, though, music is a little bit more musical when Pesce plays it. But don't take our word for it. Hang back after supping on one of My Florist's signature salads, and listen while Pesce arpeggios her way through Van Morrison, Queen, and an arrangement of Led Zeppelin's "Stairway to Heaven" that must be heard to be believed.
There are enough police officers eating at this relaxed pub at all hours of the day to inspire confidence no matter what color the folks at Homeland Security announce. What are the cops eating? It sounds un-American, but everyone is here for gourmet burgers. An outfit called Snake River Farms imported to the States a herd of cattle from Japan and fed them barley, wheat and alfalfa in a natural, unconfined setting. Whatever. The resulting Kobe beef burgers, created without growth hormones, are a wonder. Wash down the protein with a half-dozen local brews or Sonora's own handmade root beer.
The Emerald Lounge is the CBGB of Phoenix. All the proper elements are there: a garage-like punk-rock stage where you can peep such acts as Hell on Heels, Smut Muffin, and Spaz Kitty; a cool bar with an even cooler bartender -- Don "Mr. Spock" Baber; ice-cold beers on tap; and the sort of inky darkness that takes your eyes about 10 minutes to adjust to. Even then, you'll never be certain that "the dime" in the low-cut blouse beside you isn't "a deuce" -- or vice versa -- until the sunlight hits her bedsheets the next morning. But then, the darkness hides a multitude of sins both ways, bubba. The real reason we like the club's crepuscular ambiance so much is that we can hide out and be as sociable or as unsociable as we want to be.
And if it allows us the occasional anonymous, surreptitious grope of the opposite sex, that's not so wrong, is it?
When it comes to late-night decadence, it's hard to bite Zen 32's steelo. Not only can you order a plate of yellowtail sashimi or tuna rolls, and a pint of Kirin beer or a bottle of hot sake, but there's plenty of eye candy to gaze upon while you consume mass quantities. The waitresses are booful (and yes, that spelling's correct, Jack) wearing those long, Japanese-style skirts with the slits up the side, and there are plenty of hot babes of both sexes in the Zen Bar in the back.
Whether you're a chickie on the prowl or a hunk on the hunt, after 10 p.m., the Zen Bar turns into a pickup spot legendary for the hookup luck it bestows upon sushi noshers of all stripes. Alicia Silverstone-like lovelies feed each other Tootsie rolls (with eel, shrimp and snow crab), while Brad Pitt-like studlies chew their edamame (i.e., soy nuts, bee-ahtch) and hope that girl on her fifth sake bomb needs a ride home.
Seoul Jung Restaurant is not only one of the best Korean barbecue houses in the Valley, it also boasts one of the bigger Korean menus in town, with everything from kimchee pancakes and yook hwe (Korean steak tartare) to broiled mackerel and abalone porridge. In addition, it's got an impressive list of authentic Korean barbecue dishes, which includes the standard bulgogi (marinated beef), beef tongue, tripe, pork, prawns, and so on.
You can grill these on the gas ranges set into your table, or have the kitchen do it for you. In either case, you get a huge array of panchan, the pickled and marinated veggies, seafood items, etc., that are like the Korean equivalent to Spanish tapas.
It doesn't take much to over-order. But when you inevitably do so, you're the beneficiary of a veritable Korean cornucopia of eats, remedied only by prolonged gorging and the help of more than one take-home box.
Thus, a visit to Seoul Jung makes gluttony fun.
When you step out of the blinding morning (or early afternoon) sunlight into the dimmed breakfast oasis that is Harlow's, you'll be greeted with a glass of ice water almost before your butt's hit the comfortable leather booth. Then, depending on the delicate nature of your stomach, you can go simple or all out.
If you're looking for absorbency to sponge that last quart of Budweiser, Harlow's fluffy homemade biscuits are a must. If sugar's needed to ease your pounding head, hit the Belgian waffles with strawberries and a scoop of ice cream.
When more drastic fat and grease infusions are called for, head straight for the signature Eggs Maximillian with chorizo -- a tortilla covered with a layer of crispy hash browns, eggs cooked the way you like 'em, slathered with Harlow's awesome chorizo and a scoop of sour cream. After you eat, head straight home and mix up a Bloody Mary before taking your well-deserved nap -- hair of the dog is the only thing lacking from Harlow's menu. Readers' Choice: Denny's
You can't help but feel a tinge of Arizona pride when you watch the sun setting behind Pinnacle Peak from the patio at Acacia, with deep shades of rose and violet reflecting off the bubbles in your champagne glass. Or maybe that's just the champagne talking. Either way, this stunning spot equals pure romance (even if it's just a love of our wondrous desert surroundings), and offers a real sense of escape though it's not far off the 101 and Pima Road. Of course, you'll have to spend a few dollars once you set foot on the manicured grounds of the Four Seasons, but it's worth it -- you can keep the memories, free of charge.
Readers' Choice: Sanctuary Resort on Camelback Mountain
It's always a treat for us to do lunch at Calabria Italian Grocery and Deli. There are larger, busier places to go for lunch in downtown, but then that's the point of visiting Calabria, which only has a couple of tables, and mostly deals in takeout orders. Our favorite thing to do is take a late lunch and hide at the table wedged between a window and a tall steel shelf of Italian dry goods. Perhaps we'll order an array of Italian olives and pickled mushrooms as a starter, and one of Calabria's superb subs, like the Sicilian, made with mortadella, sopressata and prosciutto, for the main course. There are also calzones, and arancini -- rice balls with ground beef centers -- and, for dessert, a variety of Italian ice creams to choose from. Sure, Calabria is great for ordering to-go, but just give us that Sicilian sub, a lime San Pellegrino, and a good book, and we may even forget we have a job to go back to.
Readers' Choice: Zoë's Kitchen
Most people like to hide after dark, but if you've never tried hiding at lunch, you really should. We recommend McCormick & Schmick's. Along with regular tables and booths, the seafood restaurant has half a dozen "snugs," described as "private dining booths with luxurious velvet drapes for the ultimate in dining privacy." Now, we wouldn't recommend that you get too intimate in a snug -- you're still in the middle of a restaurant, for heaven's sake -- but you can certainly hide out. And what you do in hiding is really your own business -- unless, of course, your waiter catches you.
As the proverbial Ugly American, we had no clue as to what constitutes a proper high tea experience. So we found ourselves some English ladies (well, one actually only went to school in England, and the other, frankly, is no lady) and headed to the Phoenician on a late summer afternoon. We were surprised to hear that reservations are required -- who knew there'd be a run on hot drinks in August? -- but luckily a table opened up and we settled gingerly on a plump white couch in the airy lobby of the Phoenician.
And then we immediately made a spectacle of ourselves, ordering herbal berry tea and spilling it all over the lovely linens. Our Brits assured us that English Breakfast is the only way to go (which confused us, since it was closer to dinner time) and we got a long lecture about how the tea has to be warmed just so, and you must use whole milk, not cream.
We made a mess, but the Phoenician held up nicely, with a three-course presentation fit for a king. (Or, in this case, three wanna-be queens.) First came finger sandwiches. We preferred the lightly spiced curry egg salad with watercress and daikon sprouts and the poached chicken salad with lemon and thyme on pumpernickel. But the classic cucumber sandwiches weren't bad, either.
Next arrived buttermilk and cranberry scones. Our friends told us that scone should be pronounced "skawn" (rhymes with pawn) and although they scoffed at the notion of dried cranberries, both scarfed their scones, dabbing them with lemon curd, fresh strawberry preserves and Devonshire cream, so rich we could all feel our arteries clogging.
And then, the pastries. The selection was broad, and our lovely waiter would have happily put one of each on our plate. We managed to down a chocolate-covered strawberry and something called a fruit tartlet.
By the time we stumbled out of the Phoenician, brimming with tea and stuffed with enough carbs to fuel a kindergarten class, we understood the meaning of high tea -- it was definitely the high point of the day. And our lady friends agreed.
Catherine Deneuve once said that "Sex in hotels keeps love alive," and who are we to disagree with a French film diva? Now, we may not be in Paris, but there are still plenty of places in town where you can schedule an amorous assignation with that hot and bothered hometown honey of yours. However, if we're doing the picking, there's going to be some Indian food involved before, after, or (if we're feelin' kinky) during. When we're ready for a little afternoon delight, we book a room at the Best Western on Central, just down from Burton Barr Library. Not only are the rooms recently refurbished and affordable, but the hotel harbors the only Indian joint in the vicinity, Downtown Curry and Grill, run by the ever-affable Prem Tamang, a Nepalese fellow whose first name means "love" in his native tongue. (How appropriate!) Tamang's restaurant is outfitted like any other hotel eatery, with no outward signs to betray its secret passion: some of the tastiest Indian treats this side of New Delhi.
Unless you ask for the Indian menu, the server may bring you the American one, which offers the standard burgers, fries and tuna melts. But it's Downtown Curry's savory samosas, chicken tikka masala, and mango lassis that'll fuel the fires of your sultry sexcapades.
For dessert, try the ultimate Indian aphrodisiac -- small, round auburn confections that Tamang likes to call "camel balls." More formally, they're known as lal mohan, and taste like doughnut holes drenched in syrup, unless camel balls are actually a lot sweeter than we imagine.
There are a lot of great happy hour specials in town, like the free popcorn at the Cork and Snort, or the two-for-one Manischewitz Mondays at Morrie's Hooch-House in Tempe. But we have to admit, Eddie Matney's takes the concept to a whole different level, which may be why it's so difficult to squeeze into the bar/lounge area of the popular eatery at the intersection of 24th Street and Camelback.
First off, Eddie's is home of the "nonstop happy hour," so happy hour prices prevail as long as you're in the bar. And as far as drinks go, featured wines, cosmos, lemon drop martinis and appletinis are just $4, with all well drinks $3. But what Eddie's is known for are its appetizers, often inspired by the Lebanese heritage of Matney himself, and as part of this reverse happy hour, these tantalizing delicacies are offered at reduced prices. Imbibers get to choose from eats such as Matney's mouth-watering sumac grilled lamb chops with mint hummus, his spicy "mo'rockin shrimp" with honey dough balls, the superb Lebanese chicken quesadilla with harissa sauce, or a to-die-for plate of seafood won tons filled with creamy mascarpone served over a raspberry jalapeño dip.
We could go on and on, but when it comes to Matney's marvelous morsels, we'd rather eat than talk. So we'll see you at Eddie's, if we're able to squeeze in.
If you've got spurs that jingle-jangle-jingle, or just a tape of Tex Ritter singing the same, then at some point you should give yourself a treat and ride that horseless carriage of yours up to Tortilla Flat, way up in the Superstition Mountains, where the Superstition Saloon serves Bullrider Burgers, Killer Chili and bread bowls filled with beans, cheese and salsa. Eating at the bar means sitting on a stool outfitted with a saddle, drinking your Amber Bock draft in a Mason jar, and checking out the thousands of autographed dollar bills, pound notes and francs that paper the establishment, left behind by the 300,000-plus visitors per year. Tortilla Flat is an actual town with six residents and a post office, and it sits on the site of a former stagecoach stop on the historic Apache Trail.
In addition to the saloon, there's a gift shop and a general store that sells homemade ice cream and fudge. But after that dusty, winding trek from Phoenix on Highway 60, past Apache Junction, up State Route 88 with gleaming Canyon Lake and sheer cliffs of red rock for scenery, nothing will taste as good on the back of your throat as that draft brew in a jar. Yippie yi-yay, indeed.
Dining at a restaurant table by yourself is a foolish exercise; eating at the bar is cool, and nowhere is it cooler than at Tarbell's. With a long, graceful curve, the bar is staffed by a friendly crew that appear to have no life of their own. The same folks are always on hand offering seemingly effortless service. The menu is both reliable and first-rate, and if you are there for more than 20 minutes, you
will meet the owner.
Resort life can be harsh. First, there's the decision of which one of six pools to swim in. Then, there's the tough call of which one of eight restaurants to dine at. And finally, we've all suffered the travails of finding a good tropical drink by the pool, without having to drip-dry across the courtyard to get it. Luckily, the JW Marriott Desert Ridge caters to convenience. You don't even have to get out of the pool. Just swim on over to the Just A Splash Pool Bar & Grill and order a fuzzy navel or a pi(a colada. The bar specializes in tropical drinks, but it's got grub, too, including burgers, pizzas, salads, hot dogs and sandwiches, which begs the question: Does the "wait 30 minutes after eating" rule apply if you're already in the pool?
We love fancy hotels, but we don't like getting gussied up, particularly on a Sunday morning. That's why the brunch at the Hyatt's Squash Blossom is so perfect. No one expects you to dress up. Oh yeah, and don't get us started on the food. Well, since you asked, we recommend that you starve yourself all day Saturday, because this is a serious pig-out. Along with the piles of fresh fruit, omelets cooked to order and mounds of baked goods, the Squash Blossom offers both paella and Caesar salad stations, as well as carved meats.
Loosen those sweatpants, and belly up to the omelet bar. Readers' Choice: The Phoenician
If the Pink Pony were a big, nasty redhead, we'd plant one right on her over-lipsticked kisser. You see, so much of what passes for the restaurant industry in this Valley of pawnshops and palm trees is so corporate and lacking in class that the historic Pink Pony looks better the longer we dwell here. Blimey, the Pink Pony's been around since
Truman was Prez, y'all. Now that's history. Moreover, the Pink Pony has served such baseball legends as Joe DiMaggio, Ted Williams, Willie Mays and Billy Martin. The place is a veritable shrine to the game of baseball with framed jerseys from the likes of Sammy Sosa and Gene Autry. And its late owner Charlie Briley was instrumental in bringing the Cactus League to the Valley. But even if you know as much about America's Game as a hedgehog does about rocket science, the Double P should still appeal to you, assuming you have an ounce of style in your corpus. Just pay a visit on a Friday or Saturday night, ease into one of the slightly worn, black vinyl booths, order a stiff drink and a fat steak, and chill like Joltin' Joe did in the day. By the time you make it to your second cocktail, the lounge singer will be halfway into a finger-poppin' version of "Mack the Knife," and it'll be like you slipped through a wrinkle in time.
We love the drive up to Sanctuary, the super-chic hotel nestled up against the north side of Camelback Mountain, and we love the fiery hot wasabi nuts they serve in the cozy bar. After a cocktail or two at elements, the beautifully arranged bottles behind the bar twinkle, particularly at twilight. Or maybe it's just the cocktails. Either way, this is a perfect spot to end the day, just a short drive to either downtown Scottsdale or the Biltmore.
Cheers! Readers' Choice: elements
The lobby of the Biltmore is so elegant, you just can't help but feel your best as you sink into a chair in the lobby bar and eye that brand-new guy or gal. Good choice. A drink is the perfect first date. If you like each other, you can eat dinner at the hotel restaurant, or head a few blocks south to Biltmore Fashion Park, which houses several fine dining options. If there's a lull in the conversation, you can count on the lobby bar at the Biltmore for some prime people-watching -- or charm your date with some little-known facts about the hotel's history ("Did you know that Irving Berlin wrote ÔWhite Christmas' outside at the pool here?").
Just think -- if the date goes really well, you're just steps from the hotel check-in desk. Readers' Choice: Oregano's Pizza Bistro
One of the first things we do as soon as fall arrives is call House of Tricks for a lunch reservation. We love to sip a raspberry iced tea (the trick is real raspberries) on the patio in front of this decidedly non-chain restaurant right off Mill Avenue.
There's still enough hustle and bustle to keep our eyes busy as we watch the downtown Tempe and Arizona State University traffic, and the best part is that we feel like we're guests at someone's home, dining under a vine-covered trellis. Evenings are equally delightful at the outdoor bar, and the food is consistently some of the best we've had in town. Readers' Choice: Mickey's Hangover
You think you know "The Girl From Ipanema" until you've heard it played by Nicole Pesce, the resident pianist at My Florist Cafe. Ditto "Flight of the Bumblebee," which she's been known to pair with Elton John's "Rocket Man" or any of several Jelly Roll Morton numbers. Is it any wonder, then, that folks come from far and wide to listen to this amazingly talented lass play everything from Rachmaninoff to Billy Joel, in a signature style that's part Tchaikovsky, part Eurolounge, and always very groovy? During a standard six-hour set, Pesce (who's played with Buddy Greco and once toured the country with the Jerry Lewis Orchestra) is likely to shift from Franz Liszt to Frank Sinatra and on into her infamous ABBA medley, nodding and smiling all the while as if to say, "Hey, music is music, pal." Somehow, though, music is a little bit more musical when Pesce plays it. But don't take our word for it. Hang back after supping on one of My Florist's signature salads, and listen while Pesce arpeggios her way through Van Morrison, Queen, and an arrangement of Led Zeppelin's "Stairway to Heaven" that must be heard to be believed.
There are enough police officers eating at this relaxed pub at all hours of the day to inspire confidence no matter what color the folks at Homeland Security announce. What are the cops eating? It sounds un-American, but everyone is here for gourmet burgers. An outfit called Snake River Farms imported to the States a herd of cattle from Japan and fed them barley, wheat and alfalfa in a natural, unconfined setting. Whatever. The resulting Kobe beef burgers, created without growth hormones, are a wonder. Wash down the protein with a half-dozen local brews or Sonora's own handmade root beer.
The Emerald Lounge is the CBGB of Phoenix. All the proper elements are there: a garage-like punk-rock stage where you can peep such acts as Hell on Heels, Smut Muffin, and Spaz Kitty; a cool bar with an even cooler bartender -- Don "Mr. Spock" Baber; ice-cold beers on tap; and the sort of inky darkness that takes your eyes about 10 minutes to adjust to. Even then, you'll never be certain that "the dime" in the low-cut blouse beside you isn't "a deuce" -- or vice versa -- until the sunlight hits her bedsheets the next morning. But then, the darkness hides a multitude of sins both ways, bubba. The real reason we like the club's crepuscular ambiance so much is that we can hide out and be as sociable or as unsociable as we want to be.
And if it allows us the occasional anonymous, surreptitious grope of the opposite sex, that's not so wrong, is it?
When it comes to late-night decadence, it's hard to bite Zen 32's steelo. Not only can you order a plate of yellowtail sashimi or tuna rolls, and a pint of Kirin beer or a bottle of hot sake, but there's plenty of eye candy to gaze upon while you consume mass quantities. The waitresses are booful (and yes, that spelling's correct, Jack) wearing those long, Japanese-style skirts with the slits up the side, and there are plenty of hot babes of both sexes in the Zen Bar in the back.
Whether you're a chickie on the prowl or a hunk on the hunt, after 10 p.m., the Zen Bar turns into a pickup spot legendary for the hookup luck it bestows upon sushi noshers of all stripes. Alicia Silverstone-like lovelies feed each other Tootsie rolls (with eel, shrimp and snow crab), while Brad Pitt-like studlies chew their edamame (i.e., soy nuts, bee-ahtch) and hope that girl on her fifth sake bomb needs a ride home.
Seoul Jung Restaurant is not only one of the best Korean barbecue houses in the Valley, it also boasts one of the bigger Korean menus in town, with everything from kimchee pancakes and yook hwe (Korean steak tartare) to broiled mackerel and abalone porridge. In addition, it's got an impressive list of authentic Korean barbecue dishes, which includes the standard bulgogi (marinated beef), beef tongue, tripe, pork, prawns, and so on.
You can grill these on the gas ranges set into your table, or have the kitchen do it for you. In either case, you get a huge array of panchan, the pickled and marinated veggies, seafood items, etc., that are like the Korean equivalent to Spanish tapas.
It doesn't take much to over-order. But when you inevitably do so, you're the beneficiary of a veritable Korean cornucopia of eats, remedied only by prolonged gorging and the help of more than one take-home box.
Thus, a visit to Seoul Jung makes gluttony fun.
When you step out of the blinding morning (or early afternoon) sunlight into the dimmed breakfast oasis that is Harlow's, you'll be greeted with a glass of ice water almost before your butt's hit the comfortable leather booth. Then, depending on the delicate nature of your stomach, you can go simple or all out.
If you're looking for absorbency to sponge that last quart of Budweiser, Harlow's fluffy homemade biscuits are a must. If sugar's needed to ease your pounding head, hit the Belgian waffles with strawberries and a scoop of ice cream.
When more drastic fat and grease infusions are called for, head straight for the signature Eggs Maximillian with chorizo -- a tortilla covered with a layer of crispy hash browns, eggs cooked the way you like 'em, slathered with Harlow's awesome chorizo and a scoop of sour cream. After you eat, head straight home and mix up a Bloody Mary before taking your well-deserved nap -- hair of the dog is the only thing lacking from Harlow's menu. Readers' Choice: Denny's
You can't help but feel a tinge of Arizona pride when you watch the sun setting behind Pinnacle Peak from the patio at Acacia, with deep shades of rose and violet reflecting off the bubbles in your champagne glass. Or maybe that's just the champagne talking. Either way, this stunning spot equals pure romance (even if it's just a love of our wondrous desert surroundings), and offers a real sense of escape though it's not far off the 101 and Pima Road. Of course, you'll have to spend a few dollars once you set foot on the manicured grounds of the Four Seasons, but it's worth it -- you can keep the memories, free of charge.
Readers' Choice: Sanctuary Resort on Camelback Mountain
It's always a treat for us to do lunch at Calabria Italian Grocery and Deli. There are larger, busier places to go for lunch in downtown, but then that's the point of visiting Calabria, which only has a couple of tables, and mostly deals in takeout orders. Our favorite thing to do is take a late lunch and hide at the table wedged between a window and a tall steel shelf of Italian dry goods. Perhaps we'll order an array of Italian olives and pickled mushrooms as a starter, and one of Calabria's superb subs, like the Sicilian, made with mortadella, sopressata and prosciutto, for the main course. There are also calzones, and arancini -- rice balls with ground beef centers -- and, for dessert, a variety of Italian ice creams to choose from. Sure, Calabria is great for ordering to-go, but just give us that Sicilian sub, a lime San Pellegrino, and a good book, and we may even forget we have a job to go back to.
Readers' Choice: Zoë's Kitchen
Most people like to hide after dark, but if you've never tried hiding at lunch, you really should. We recommend McCormick & Schmick's. Along with regular tables and booths, the seafood restaurant has half a dozen "snugs," described as "private dining booths with luxurious velvet drapes for the ultimate in dining privacy." Now, we wouldn't recommend that you get too intimate in a snug -- you're still in the middle of a restaurant, for heaven's sake -- but you can certainly hide out. And what you do in hiding is really your own business -- unless, of course, your waiter catches you.
As the proverbial Ugly American, we had no clue as to what constitutes a proper high tea experience. So we found ourselves some English ladies (well, one actually only went to school in England, and the other, frankly, is no lady) and headed to the Phoenician on a late summer afternoon. We were surprised to hear that reservations are required -- who knew there'd be a run on hot drinks in August? -- but luckily a table opened up and we settled gingerly on a plump white couch in the airy lobby of the Phoenician.
And then we immediately made a spectacle of ourselves, ordering herbal berry tea and spilling it all over the lovely linens. Our Brits assured us that English Breakfast is the only way to go (which confused us, since it was closer to dinner time) and we got a long lecture about how the tea has to be warmed just so, and you must use whole milk, not cream.
We made a mess, but the Phoenician held up nicely, with a three-course presentation fit for a king. (Or, in this case, three wanna-be queens.) First came finger sandwiches. We preferred the lightly spiced curry egg salad with watercress and daikon sprouts and the poached chicken salad with lemon and thyme on pumpernickel. But the classic cucumber sandwiches weren't bad, either.
Next arrived buttermilk and cranberry scones. Our friends told us that scone should be pronounced "skawn" (rhymes with pawn) and although they scoffed at the notion of dried cranberries, both scarfed their scones, dabbing them with lemon curd, fresh strawberry preserves and Devonshire cream, so rich we could all feel our arteries clogging.
And then, the pastries. The selection was broad, and our lovely waiter would have happily put one of each on our plate. We managed to down a chocolate-covered strawberry and something called a fruit tartlet.
By the time we stumbled out of the Phoenician, brimming with tea and stuffed with enough carbs to fuel a kindergarten class, we understood the meaning of high tea -- it was definitely the high point of the day. And our lady friends agreed.
Catherine Deneuve once said that "Sex in hotels keeps love alive," and who are we to disagree with a French film diva? Now, we may not be in Paris, but there are still plenty of places in town where you can schedule an amorous assignation with that hot and bothered hometown honey of yours. However, if we're doing the picking, there's going to be some Indian food involved before, after, or (if we're feelin' kinky) during. When we're ready for a little afternoon delight, we book a room at the Best Western on Central, just down from Burton Barr Library. Not only are the rooms recently refurbished and affordable, but the hotel harbors the only Indian joint in the vicinity, Downtown Curry and Grill, run by the ever-affable Prem Tamang, a Nepalese fellow whose first name means "love" in his native tongue. (How appropriate!) Tamang's restaurant is outfitted like any other hotel eatery, with no outward signs to betray its secret passion: some of the tastiest Indian treats this side of New Delhi.
Unless you ask for the Indian menu, the server may bring you the American one, which offers the standard burgers, fries and tuna melts. But it's Downtown Curry's savory samosas, chicken tikka masala, and mango lassis that'll fuel the fires of your sultry sexcapades.
For dessert, try the ultimate Indian aphrodisiac -- small, round auburn confections that Tamang likes to call "camel balls." More formally, they're known as lal mohan, and taste like doughnut holes drenched in syrup, unless camel balls are actually a lot sweeter than we imagine.
There are a lot of great happy hour specials in town, like the free popcorn at the Cork and Snort, or the two-for-one Manischewitz Mondays at Morrie's Hooch-House in Tempe. But we have to admit, Eddie Matney's takes the concept to a whole different level, which may be why it's so difficult to squeeze into the bar/lounge area of the popular eatery at the intersection of 24th Street and Camelback.
First off, Eddie's is home of the "nonstop happy hour," so happy hour prices prevail as long as you're in the bar. And as far as drinks go, featured wines, cosmos, lemon drop martinis and appletinis are just $4, with all well drinks $3. But what Eddie's is known for are its appetizers, often inspired by the Lebanese heritage of Matney himself, and as part of this reverse happy hour, these tantalizing delicacies are offered at reduced prices. Imbibers get to choose from eats such as Matney's mouth-watering sumac grilled lamb chops with mint hummus, his spicy "mo'rockin shrimp" with honey dough balls, the superb Lebanese chicken quesadilla with harissa sauce, or a to-die-for plate of seafood won tons filled with creamy mascarpone served over a raspberry jalape--o dip.
We could go on and on, but when it comes to Matney's marvelous morsels, we'd rather eat than talk. So we'll see you at Eddie's, if we're able to squeeze in.
If you've got spurs that jingle-jangle-jingle, or just a tape of Tex Ritter singing the same, then at some point you should give yourself a treat and ride that horseless carriage of yours up to Tortilla Flat, way up in the Superstition Mountains, where the Superstition Saloon serves Bullrider Burgers, Killer Chili and bread bowls filled with beans, cheese and salsa. Eating at the bar means sitting on a stool outfitted with a saddle, drinking your Amber Bock draft in a Mason jar, and checking out the thousands of autographed dollar bills, pound notes and francs that paper the establishment, left behind by the 300,000-plus visitors per year. Tortilla Flat is an actual town with six residents and a post office, and it sits on the site of a former stagecoach stop on the historic Apache Trail.
In addition to the saloon, there's a gift shop and a general store that sells homemade ice cream and fudge. But after that dusty, winding trek from Phoenix on Highway 60, past Apache Junction, up State Route 88 with gleaming Canyon Lake and sheer cliffs of red rock for scenery, nothing will taste as good on the back of your throat as that draft brew in a jar. Yippie yi-yay, indeed.
Dining at a restaurant table by yourself is a foolish exercise; eating at the bar is cool, and nowhere is it cooler than at Tarbell's. With a long, graceful curve, the bar is staffed by a friendly crew that appear to have no life of their own. The same folks are always on hand offering seemingly effortless service. The menu is both reliable and first-rate, and if you are there for more than 20 minutes, you
will meet the owner.
