My nostrils are so filled with the stink of keister-kissing by the other restaurant critics in this city that I long for nothing more than the hide of an overrated grub purveyor. Throughout greater Phoenix, there are plenty of culinary dinosaurs, as well as new bistros, in need of a…
The most superlative pizza I’ve ever scarfed was from storefront pizzerias in Manhattan and Brooklyn, usually after stumbling out of some tavern. But even when I was sober as the dreaded parson, pizza was the grub that kept me going in Gotham. And nothing that I’ve tasted outside the Five…
The only deity I’ve ever had a personal affinity for is that corpulent, jolly “buddha” with a small “b” known as Jin Foo, Bu Dai, or Hotei, depending on whom you ask. Personally, Gautama Buddha, he of the Bodhi tree fame, always struck me as a bit too severe, like…
Flan is one of those desserts people pooh-pooh, as if its production seems too simple, or its presence in a Southwestern town like ours too prevalent. But take it from a flan-obsessed gourmand like myself: Good flan ain’t easy to find. Like tiramisu in Italian eateries, flan is often written…
I’m at a sushi bar the other day, waiting for the chef to finish up some toro nigiri for me, when I decide to pay the raw-fish maestro a compliment. I praise the swank new restaurant he works in, and comment that the sushi has improved since it first opened…
No slight intended to that toddlin’ town of Mesa, but few are the delectations that would motivate me to drive down to that burg in 110-degree-plus heat, with the monsoon on my tail. Exceptional barbecue is one, and exceptional barbecue Mesa now has with the opening of a Big City…
If I were not duty-bound to visit a restaurant more than once before reviewing it, I never would have returned to Scottsdale’s Tapas after my initial, disastrous visit. There were even a couple of points during the evening when my companion and I seriously discussed walking out. Mostly, this occurred…
Does anyone else cringe when they hear of Mayor Phil Gordon’s front porch benches and how they’re now greeting visitors at Sky Harbor Airport? The mayor’s Mayberry aesthetic may have a noble intent; it’s supposed to bring us all together, and in doing so, help fight crime. But can’t we…
I feel like kicking up my heels à la Tom Cruise and pumping my fist for joy. That’s right, I’m in love, and I don’t care how dirty I get Oprah’s couch! No, it’s not with some pretty young thing 16 years my junior. And no, I don’t need a…
Chef Christopher Gross never misses a lick when it comes to reminding you of all the plaudits he’s picked up in his day. There’s a fairly exhaustive list on the take-home menu for Christopher’s Fermier Brasserie, Gross’ acclaimed Biltmore Fashion Park grub shack, and the list includes everything from his…
Dining in Phoenix sometimes feels like going toe-to-toe with Torquemada during the Spanish Inquisition, or at least Monty Python in that skit where they declare, “No one expects the Spanish Inquisition!” Except here, they let you choose your method of torture. Breakfast at a pretentious resort eatery? Lunch at a…
Call me the Benedict Arnold of Phoenix boosterism for saying so, but the thought of light rail does not titillate me. Nor does the prospect of ASU Prez Michael Crow spilling more of his Mormon seed money all over downtown. Bioscience Center? Sounds too much like “Biosphere” for me to…
Like the late, great Rodney Dangerfield, Buffalo wings get no respect, no respect at all. The name “Buffalo” hardly engenders esteem, as that burg’s other contributions to the culture include Millard Fillmore, Vincent Gallo and the Goo Goo Dolls. Probably doesn’t help that the word can be used as a…
Whenever I visit The Gelato Spot, that new purveyor of Italian “ice cream” across from Zen 32 at 32nd Street and Camelback Road, I’m often reminded of that classic short story by Irwin Shaw, “The Girls in Their Summer Dresses.” It’s the one where this Gotham couple gets into a…
Pizza is one of those foods I enjoy too much to actually indulge in very often. Once the feeding frenzy begins in earnest, I’ll go through an extra-large pie solo and start on the cardboard box if any cheese has dripped onto it. Keep your hands and feet away from…
For this food critic, there’s nothing quite as satisfying as gnawing on a hunk of butt while perusing the Scottsdale-based Serbian Times and occasionally wondering how many pierogi a grown man can ingest before he explodes. The butt in question? Smoked pork butt, silly! From Stanley’s Home Made Sausage Co…
As any Birkenstocks-clad liberal arts major will tell you ad nauseam if you let him, the word “empire” is a loaded term, a Pandora’s box of negative connotations. From the conquest and subjugation of native peoples to Darth Vader and the Death Star, empires lack any redeeming characteristics. Or so…
I’m fairly skeptical about the concept of some sort of cosmic justice, whether it be a benevolent graybeard on a throne up in heaven, or something less silly, like the notion of karma. After all, not enough bad things happen to the right people. If my idea of karma were…
Like most foodies, I’m fond of almost all ethnic cuisines, and I’m always heartened to hear of another attempting a toe-hold in greater Phoenix. Indeed, upon learning of one, my first instinct is to pull on my socks and head out the door quicker than Pope Benedict XVI can sputter…
I may pique the interest of Michael Jackson fans by saying so, but who knew that the, uh, cojónes of young calves would make such a mouth-watering appetizer? Not me, as I must admit to never partaking of this well-known Western delicacy before stopping by the reopened and revitalized Stockyards…
Submitted for your consideration: the worst sushi I’ve had since I made the mistake of walking into a Todai many years back. Sushi that makes Trader Joe’s prepackaged California rolls seem like the food of the gods. Sushi so repulsive that it’d make Pope John Paul II sit up on…
We need some new rules here on the Ponderosa, and the first one is that for every bad meal I have to endure, my belly deserves to be placated with a satisfying one. Truly, last week’s trek to Armadillo Grill was so hideous that I should be pampered like a…
