I’ve been to Casita Andina three times now, once by myself, once with my friend Jen and her two-year-old, and once with my friend Karen from Chicago. And each time, I’ve ordered the luscious trout tiradito and wanted to bathe in it. Also, each time the service has been just so wonderfully sweet and friendly. If not for the fact that the loos are on the top floor, I would eat here all the time. (Top floor loos are a terrible idea.) If it’s a nice day, get there early so you can commandeer the outdoor patio on the 1st floor. We did that with Jen and her little one and it was perfect.

Casita Andina is part of the Ceviche empire. The 1st floor dining room is super cozy and cute — like lunch at your grandmother’s. One thing I didn’t notice until much later — the restaurant is gluten free! Ask for bread to mop up anything left over and the best they can do is quinoa bread. (It’s grainy.)

The Verdict: Go and go again. I like it here.

Website: http://www.andinalondon.com/casita

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But someone is having a bad day, and it’s not me. I’m having a great day. It’s Friday! It’s lunchtime! Everything is great and everybody is happy!

It’s my server who is having a bad day. He’s not mean or anything…he’s just…absent. And I don’t mean that he’s not physically present, because he is physically present. He’s just mentally absent. He just doesn’t seem to want to be there. At all. And he doesn’t want me to be there either. He doesn’t seem to want me to eat or drink and he has no recommendations on anything. Everything is good here, he says. All the wines are nice, he says.

But everything is not good here. The eggplant empanada is bland and tasteless and doesn’t deliver on the promise of its appearance.

The salmon ceviche, on the other hand, is quite zingy and tart.

The feijoada is good but I am really jonsing for some farofa to sprinkle around everything.

The Verdict: I like the look of La Sirena Clandestina. I also like the sink in the bathroom. The food was good but I think I’m going to have to give this place another go to say for sure.

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Francis proved to be the master organizer yet again when he marched us little ducklings off to Tanta, the new Peruvian place in Chicago by Peruvian chef Gaston Arcurio, whom some may be familiar with from World’s 50 Best Astrid & Gaston. (Almost wrote Gastrid and Ashton there. Whoops.)

I’m worried about Tanta’s location. Although it’s in River North, it’s in a bit of a desolate stretch of Grand close to Lasalle. Signage is also a little discreet for River North, but maybe that’s not a bad thing. I can imagine the tourists walking by…”Should we go here? I don’t know…Tanta? What does that mean? Do they have steak here? Do you think I can put ketchup on it? I hope they open at 5.”

But once inside, I love the space. I love the bar and would happily come back here to dine solo. I love that it’s not too uber-stuffed with tables and chairs. There’s an appreciation of personal space here that is just really nice.

That being said, personal space is on overdrive at the back of the restaurant at our table, which is too wide and too long for our party of five. I am the fifth wheel. And the restaurant is LOUD and my hearing is not as bionic as it used to be. I am alone at the end of the table, but the lovely and gracious Mr. Stashwick is a wonderful table-mate.

Enough babble. Let’s talk CHICKEN. I cannot profess my love of a full roast chicken enough. Roast chicken is one of my absolute favorite things to eat and to make. (Yes, you read that correctly…to make!) While I hate restaurant chicken breast entrees (too frozen Restaurant Depot for me), I love a pick-at-it-all-day-and-all-night-long roast chicken. And Tanta’s is probably one of the best I’ve ever had. The presentation is awesome…so many sides and lovely crisp potatoes that are even crisp the next morning when I polish them off as leftovers for breakfast. Seriously, this is very good stuff, very excellent, supremely competent stuff.

The Verdict: I will be back here soon. You should go too. Maybe we should go together and drink all the Pisco Sours together.

P.S. It’s perhaps worthy to note that we received special treatment the night we came in because Francis was super-excited about the restaurant’s opening and had been in touch with Gaston Arcurio and staff. The chef came out a few times to talk with us, along with some of the other senior staff. Also, we were comped a few dishes; my apologies but because I was not in charge of the bill, I’m not sure what exactly we were comped but it was a small amount in relation to the overall bill. We tipped as if we had not been comped, of course.

The post Tanta, Chicago first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

Verdict: You should go here. Have the salmon. (Seriously, I never say that. This is amazing.)

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Time for a break. Too many restaurants, too little time. And I’m TIRED. I know, I know. What happened to all your photos, Krista? What happened to full blog write-ups?  Frankly speaking, no one restaurant has driven me to such great lengths in a long time. So micro-reviews it is for you. For now. Personally, I kinda like the micro-review thing. It’s like Twitter. Or a Haiku. (A long one.)

Benny’s Chop House, 444 N. Wabash, River North (ish, because I kinda feel like Wabash is a bit of a wasteland and even though it’s north of the river, it’s still in The Loop, isn’t it?). When I was looking for new kitchen knobs in December (yes, I’m very domestic like that), I met Benny himself in a hardware store and made a mental note to stop in to his restaurant sometime. In return for the name and phone number of his handyman and all. So I did. (Although I never called his handyman.) It was a weekend afternoon and the place was EMPTY. I sat at the bar and had a burger. And it was so flavorless, it was sad. The bun was good though, as were the fries. (Served in their own miniature basket for frying! Genius!) But really, all I wanted was some salt and pepper. BUT wait. The PRICE. The price was kind of amazingly right. $10 for a burger and fries that is certainly better than Mickey D’s. I mean, for that, I might just have to go back. Even though the bar area kinda felt like a bad 2008 Chicago condo kitchen installation. The Verdict: If you like value for money, sit at the bar and get a burger, but ask for salt and pepper and all that other stuff.

Irazu, 1865 N. Milwaukee, Bucktown. Everyone told me I would love Irazu, one of Chicago’s only Costa Rican restaurants. Well, I didn’t. It all felt a bit unkempt and dingy, and our table was unsteady, so that was annoying. And my tilapia tacos were probably about the most underwhelming thing I’ve eaten so far in 2012. (Tilapia. In a taco. With a lot of overcooked onions. No thank you.) My friend Amy got that oatmeal shake that everyone raves about and I thought, “Gee, it’s just like drinking cold oatmeal.” The Verdict: Meh. Not so exciting. Not sure why it’s so packed.

Maza, 2415 N. Ashland, Sort of Lincoln Park-ish. I will admit to a total bias. I used to live by the old Maza on Lincoln and I always loved it. You might know my greatest goal is to go to Lebanon at some point in the near future. And I am also a sucker for hummus. So it was that I found myself at the new Maza at Ashland & Fullerton, where I heard the incredibly sad story of the owner losing the lease on his old space in West Lakeview. The landlord on Lincoln wanted a monthly sum that no sole proprietor could ever agree to. So Maza moved. And the old space remains unoccupied still. Greedy bastards. Well, bygones because we had fun at Maza and I loved my assortment of food, just like I did in the old days. I love that it’s this guy’s restaurant and it always has been and he works there all the time.  The Verdict: Support a local businessman and go. (And really, ignore the Yelp reviews.) Sadly, the proprietor hasn’t been back to Lebanon in 30+ years.

I’ve got more. A lot more. Coming up: Storefront Company, RPM Italian, and the part where I nearly die on a bar stool at Yusho. And a lot of other places that I can’t even remember at the moment. Hmmm.

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Date of Last Visit: Saturday, May 17

The Victim: K

The Damage: About £17 each

The Background: K is leaving me. She and A are going back to NY (Connecticut, actually) next weekend. I am DEVASTATED. I suggest a day out around town to some places K has never been before. We start at Broadway Market. Afterwards, we hit the British Museum for K’s first and last look at the Rosetta Stone (my second), and then it’s off to tea at Liberty and some fondling of Liberty’s household goods. I do love fondling the goods at Liberty.

With such a big day out, sustenance is  necessity. K likes her steak. I’m glad we’re in Broadway Market because of her affinity for steak and my affinity for going somewhere I’ve never been before so I can pump up my London food blog.

The Entrance: Everyone is speaking Spanish but us. We’re the total gringos. To give K credit, she speaks some good Spanish. But she doesn’t break it out. I was kinda hoping for that.

The Food: We order two small filets and some empanadas. I think the empanadas are good. Cozy. But I am not falling all over myself over them. The steak, on the other hand, is a masterpiece. And I’m not a steak eater. K proclaims it one of the best steaks she’s had in the U.K., which is high praise. I also order a green salad, which ends up being  a waste because both steaks are served with green salad. (I wish someone had warned me of that.) The steaks were also accompanied by some lovely nice big chunky white beans. Yum.

The Nice Bit: They have a lovely outdoor patio at Buen Ayre. It was pouring rain when we were there, of course, but I’d come back just for that.

The Verdict: Nice. Would have been better with some Malbec. 🙂

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Arepa & Company Camden

Arepa & Co Camden

The Victim: Stacey

The Damage: Well, it was probably something like £40, but I loaned Stace some money so she could buy some fab dresses and she insisted on paying for a lot more than she should have from there on out.

The Background: It’s funny…I’ve just been on the phone to Rutton (it’s 8 p.m. on a Sunday as a write this), and I told him about my day. And he said, “You’re very good at planning your weekends.”

And that gave me pause. Because although I’d so like that to be true, it’s not. I’m a planner, for sure, but planners can’t plan alone.

So yesterday, I was supposed to go over to Al & Louise’s for a barbecue with baby Oscar. (Al & Louise have the distinction of being this American gal’s “English friends.”) At 8:30 a.m., I checked my phone and there was a message from Al that said something like…

“Stuck my head in a bucket of PIMS last night. I’m dying. Barbecue is off. Sorry.”

So that left me wondering what to do next. (Cue Al Green, Tired of Being Alone.) Result? I read Vogue. I read Travel & Leisure. I update my blog. I start the dinner music mix for Matt & Feathers’ wedding. I hang out on my patio. I rent a car in Mexico. I call my friend Brian who is somewhere in the Middle East. I pick things up, I put things down. In short, I do nothing until around 8:30 p.m. when I head over to Au Lac for dinner with Chris & Evelien.

Fast forward to Sunday morning. I have plans to have brunch with K&A. I get back from my run around 10:30 a.m. and there’s a text from K…they’re not feeling very brunchlike. How about dinner on Tuesday instead?

Sigh. Cue Al Green again. The best laid plans.

Arepas in Camden

Enter Stacey and a “What are you doing?” text around 1 p.m. And a trip to Camden. And the most delicious lunch ever…arepas from Arepa & Co, live from Venezuela. An arepa is a cornmeal patty. I love cornmeal. I love grits, corn bread, corn muffins…and arepas. Ours were stuffed with beef, beans, and cheese. They were super-delicious. You should get one sometime. Get me one too while you’re at it. Or e-mail me first and we’ll go together.

An Update on Arepa & Co

Note that Arepa & Co now has two restaurants in London!! You can find them in Haggerstown and Bethnal Green. The no longer seem to be at Camden Market but there is a new arepa purveyor there called Arepazo Brothers.

Where Else to Get Arepas in London

• Guasacaca in Southwark
• Petare at Pop Brixton
• Mi Cocina es Tuya in Crystal Palace
• Don Arepa on Rupert Street in Soho

And then…we went to Gilgamesh…
Camden Stables Market
Chalk Farm Rd
NW1 8AH
Tel: 020 7482 5757

Have you read about Gilgamesh? Well, it’s huge. And you take an escalator to get there. And there’s a lot of carved wood. It reminds me of a hotel in a small city in China. It’s trying really hard from a decor standpoint. But at 3 p.m. on a Sunday afternoon when the market is packed, Gilgamesh is empty.

Gilgamesh Camden

We are shown to the bar area and we wait forever for someone to take our order. We just get drinks. Fruity cocktails. They are actually quite pleasing, but they’re pricey. £9.50 maybe? Eventually, our server drops off some complimentary prawn crackers. And an hour or so later when she gives us our bill, it’s £5.23. 🙂 I was so very tempted. But the Catholic guilt kicks in.

I go to the ladies and I am again reminded of being in a hotel in small city in China. There is a mop bucket and some mops in the stairwell, as well as some red velvet ropes. Dude, that stuff should be in a closet. And in the ladies’, there are orange traffic cones. Because apparently, they’re about to start some roadwork. How random.

We tried to eat, but they wouldn’t let us, despite having a bar menu. Apparently, they don’t serve any food between 4 p.m. and 6 p.m. Not even food from steam baskets. (You know, because that’s hard.) Bummer. But we can have some more prawn crackers.

Stacey and I decide that we would maybe come back to hang out at Gilgamesh. It’s in a good location, and the decor is sorta cool. And it’s so weirdly bizarre. Although I do pray for the rainforests.

So…in our search for sustenance, we decide on a CHANGE of VENUE!

The Cuban Camden

The Cuban
The Long Stables
Chalk Farm Road
NW1 8AH
Tel: 02074240692

Well, we like The Cuban immediately because there is live music. And the band rocks. And every so often, a few people get up to dance. It’s fun.

We get some mojitos, and we get some food. It’s bar food…quesadillas (with goat cheese?), croquettas, and something The Cuban calls Nachos, but I call “the bottom of the tortilla chip bag, with some sour cream spread on top.” Yikes. Nachos are the easiest thing to get right…why do so many (non-American, non-Mexican) people screw them up?

But then I got thinking–what if they got the Arepas guys to come in and make Arepas? (I’ve had arepas in Puerto Rico, so I am guessing that Cubans do arepas too?) That would be a sure hit.

The Verdict: Love Arepa & Co. Intrigued by Gilgamesh, but frightened as well. Had fun at The Cuban, but wouldn’t eat there and would only go back if I knew that there were many mojitos were in my future.

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Date of Last Visit: Thursday, May 24th, 2007

The Victim: Nick

The Damage: £35 per person with two margaritas each.

The Background: Nick is in town for work and wants to know if I want to go anywhere new. Is this a trick question?

I do want to go somewhere. Sabor. I’ve read nice things. And I have a hankering for empanadas. Plus, Sabor is a convenient bus ride away.

The Entrance: I order a house margarita and it is GREAT. It has passion fruit and lime juice. Very tasty. Nick turns up a few minutes later and orders the same. He too is happy.

The Starters: I get my wish and go for the empanadas. They are very tasty. Nick goes for the quesadilla and he seems satisfied, but I want to say that something was missing from his  quesadillas…I am not sure what. Yes, she fails once again in her London-food-blogging-task.

The Atmosphere: In the background, they are playing Buena Vista Social Club. At 8 p.m. on a Thursday, the place is buzzing. The wine list is mostly Chilean and Argentinian–and there are descriptions! (Oh how I do love a wine list with descriptions. Such an easy thing to do, but alas, few restaurants do it.

Heck, if you are a London-based restauranteur and don’t have any descriptions on your wine list (or don’t like the ones you do have), I will do it for free. For the first ten restaurants that ask me to. The only caveat is that you’d have to give me credit and include my blog’s URL. Plus, you’re going to let me do some pre- and post-list analysis. Oh, and if you have like more than 20 wines, we’re both in trouble. )

The Mains: I am intrigued by the chimichangas. But here’s the rub–they are vegetarian chimichangas. Our server assures me that they have a very strong flavor and he’d really recommend them. So I go for it. And these are so not TGI Friday chimichangas. They are light and flaky and full of all sorts of delicious things. I wish I could tell you what, but I am a very bad food blogger and neglected to go for an in-depth inspection. What struck me, however, was that these were not deep fried, but rather wrapped in a light and flaky phyllo-like dough. They were good.

The Verdict: I can never speak for my guests, but Nick wiped his plate clean and gave the restaurant strong marks across the board. I think we both agreed that the service was a bit too preoccupied. And they didn’t trust me with the tap water jug. But all-in-all, I’d go back.

The post Latin: Sabor first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

Date of Last Visit: Saturday, February 24, 2007

The Victims: Yusuf and Company. 12 of us in total.

The Damage: £40. I left early, so I gave Yusuf the money before taking off. I hope it was enough.

The Background: Yusuf has invited me out to dinner. I have said "Yes" of course, because he is one of the most interesting guys I know. He is Swedish. But Turkish. And oh but just a little American. I forget sometimes.

I arrive for dinner at Favela Chic and I am one of 12. There are Turks and Greeks and Italians. And the few token Americans. The place is empty and I am glad because I live in the general neighborhood and I know that there is usually a queue. We are some of the only people there at 7 p.m.

The Starters: We get a combo plate, and it arrives in all its deep-fried goodness. I would tell you what was on the plate, but I can’t because it was all deep-fried. This made it delicious, so it was fine. Sorta.

The Mains: I remember that in 2005, I flew from London to Anchorage, Alaska. I had saved up my air miles so I flew business class. On my flight from Chicago to Anchorage, they served Chicken with white rice in Business Class. Maybe some people think that’s a nice meal, but to me, it was a high margin dish. You can buy 45 kg bags of rice for super cheap. I couldn’t believe they had the nerve to slap that crapity-crap down in front of me. OMG I am a snob.

So the same thing happened at Favela Chic. Chicken in a nice sauce. With white rice. Now that’s pretty lazy.

The Dessert: I left early to head over to The Ritz to pick up Eugene. One of the best sentences to say EVER, "Taxi driver, can you take me to The Ritz? Please."

The Verdict: Well I did like the music. And the company was fantastic. But this is a blog about food (mostly). And you know it’s bad when I totally forget to write up a meal until like three weeks later.

The post Latin, Sorta: Favela Chic first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

Date of Last Visit: Saturday, September 2, 2006

The Victims: Feathers, Destri, Stacey

The Counterbalance (Yes, a new measure!): 2.62 miles on the treadmill

The Damage: 20 quid pp

The Background: Feathers and Destri went to high school with Stacey back in California. Stacey was on the tail end of a Scandinavian tour and was in London for 48 hours. The girls took her shopping, and I met up with them for dinner.

The Selection: I can only guess, but as we were walking out of Ping Pong the other night, I said to Feathers, "I’ve always wanted to go there," as we passed some restaurant across the street. The sign looked like it said Cuba Libre, but it actually said something else. And then we go confused with whether there was a Cuba Libre in Chicago on Southport. (I don’t think there is.)

The Bar: I was early, as usual. So I headed to the very festive bar area, where I stook next to some very tall guys. They were so tall I had to move away because I felt so very much shorter than my respectable 5 ft. 4. A very attractive bartender brought me a mjoito, my mixed drink of choice.

The Food and Drink: The ladies arrived, and we were shown to our table. Now the tablecloths were covered with plastic, which I hate. If you happen to be wearing a skirt, the tablecloth sticks to your knees. And if it’s a little muggy, your drink sweats, and it has nowhere to go, so there are big wet puddles all over the table.

But I digress. We ordered that appetizer selection plate, which I felt was amateurish. Someone just threw a bunch of stuff into the deep fryer. There was no love. Everything was dumped unceremoniously onto a not very special plate. And then arrived our mains. Mine was something called "old clothes," which I would write en espanol, but I forget. It was heavily seasoned beef, with rice and beans and mushed up yucca. The rice and beans were good, as was the yucca. The beef bore a serious resemblance to dog food. It wasn’t bad though, it just wasn’t seriously good either.

Feathers ordered the chicken and avocado, which turned out to be chicken and avocado smothered in cheese. Uggh.

The girl at the table across from us sent her food back because she discovered a very long hair in it.

All of this was accompanied by two pitchers of mojitos for 16.50 a pop. This was a happy hour special–apparently, you saved 3 quid off the list price by ordering at the bar. I thought this was stupid. Like it would have killed them to let us order the pitchers from the table? I don’t understand this logic. It wasn’t like the bar was that far away either–so no time/aggravation argument either.

The Verdict: Eh. I was not impressed.

The post Cuban: Cuba Libre first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

Date of Last Visit: Friday, July 29, 2006

The Victim: Kristi

The Damage: 35 quid each

The Setup: K and I hadn’t seen each other in ages. Or so it felt like. A was sick (or ill as they say here), so it was a girls’ night out. I was hoping to check out The Ambassador in Exmouth Market, but K has this thing about smoke, so that was off the list. (I will quote her as close to directly as possible–"Having a no smoking section in a restaurant is like having a no peeing section in a pool.") As it turns out, L does allow smoking, just upstairs at four small tables. So hopefully K is still feeling guilty about depriving me of The Ambassador. All that being said, she remains redeemed. L was a very fine choice.

The Starters: Well, we went with the tapas menu, so there were no starters per se. But there was fantastic walnut and raisin bread. That was very nice. And rosemary and something-or-other bread. Yummy. But before I get into the food, let me just focus on the drink: for those of you that know me, you know I do not enjoy hard liquor. Vodka tonic? YUKKK. Gin and tonic? Double YUK. Rum and Coke? Gag! The only two mixed drinks I will really ever drink are margaritas (it’s the salt) and white russians (it’s the milk). So when K persuaded me to try the 3.50 mojito (yes, let me write that again–3.50!!!!!), I was tentative. But ultimately, I appreciate a good value, so the Mojito it was.

The Drink: Yes, let me call it "The Drink." Because it was, is, and forever will be "The Drink." Mojitos are not so good at the very beginning. They are minty, but not pepperminty. They are limey, but not really-good-limey. And they are not so sugar-y, even though there is supposedly sugar in there somewhere. But stir and stir and stir and man do you have a nice drink. And for 3.50? Is this the cheapest high quality mixed drink in London, or is it me? I will return for the mojitos alone! (Feathers, are you reading this? Our next girls’ night will be here.)

The Food: As always, I digress. K and I ordered a plate of Iberian ham, which was much more ham-y than its Italian counterpart. It was thick, meaty, and smokey and tough to chew. It’s not that I didn’t like it, but it wasn’t my absolute best thing ever. The tortilla was the highlight–eggs, potatoes and basil all cooked up nice and hot and delicious. We had some bread with tomatoes–bruchetta-like, but not called bruchetta, and that was nice. And then we had this cucumber/radish/anchovy/cheese thing, and although that sounds pretty random, it was actually kinda nice. And the most interesting thing of all was the special of the day–cod and olives and oranges and red peppers. It wasn’t super-delicious, but I actually mean that in a good way; it was super-interesting. As my old roommates from college would say, "Interesting. Very complex."

The Loos: Very sparkly tile work. Clean. Nothing exciting.

The Service: Too efficient! Let me be, please! As soon as I had drank a tablespoon of water, they were refilling my glass.

The Verdict: I would go back here. Particularly for the 3.50 mojitos. Fantastic.

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Date of Last Visit: Friday, June 23, 2006

The Victims: Kristi, Adrien

The Damage: 28 quid each

The Set Up: K&A are not huge fans of British beef. They keep trying, but nothing compares–in their opinion–to good ole’ American beef. Not being a huge red meat eater myself–Does duck count as red meat? It is red. But it’s fowl, right?–I cannot speak to this subject. But I trust their judgement.

Hence how we end up at Rodizio Rico. They have meat, lots of it. And it’s all-you-can-eat! Unheard of for this country. And K had called ahead and asked where their beef comes from. Now, supposedly, their red meat comes all the way from Brazil. I find this hard to believe, but that’s what they said. My Uncle George, the recreational tuna fisherman, would want to know how long ago those cows went to cow heaven.

The Starters: Rodizio Rico offers a salad bar. An ALL-YOU-CAN-EAT salad bar. I love Rodizio Rico already. Why this country (meaning the UK) hasn’t embraced the all-you-can-eat-salad-bar, well, I just don’t get it. Now I should note that this particular salad bar was a little short on salad, but chock full of rice and beans, potatoes, and all sorts of delicious carbs. Yum! We stocked up.

The Mains: Then the meat parade began. And I do mean parade. Men kept dropping by our table with huge slabs of meat and big knives. And boy was I glad that A speaks portugese because I do think we got a little preferential treatment. The red meat kept coming and coming. Most of the other folks didn’t see the beef as often as we did. They got lots of pork and ham (are they the same or different?) and chicken. Not us. K&A probably had three full steaks between them. I had a couple of pieces of the beef and it was pretty delicious. You can’t go wrong with this stuff cooked in a big fireplace. Ialso enjoyed a delicious piece of chicken wrapped in bacon–yum! But I skipped out on the chicken hearts.

After a while though, I started getting ill. There was just SO much meat. I couldn’t take it anymore. So I switched to rice and beans, and although the beans weren’t brown (they were more red than brown), they were still pretty good.

The Verdict: Without drinks, our bill would have been a reasonable 18 quid each. Not bad, particularly with our Brazilian connection (A) getting us all the top quality stuff. Add the margaritas and caipirinhas though and the bill will sky rocket from there. This would be a good group outing kind of place, or maybe for a stag night or something.

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