December 20, 2008

  • Iowa Culinary Institute Bistro

    Bistro at ICI

    The Iowa Culinary Institute (ICI) is one of the state’s best-kept secrets in higher education. Since a 2005 expansion, the school has served a cosmopolitan student body of about 150. Students come from countries such as Spain, Canada, Brazil, Lebanon, Jamaica, Costa Rica, Thailand and half a dozen countries in Africa. ICI has even graduated six students from Tibet. To visualize the institute’s influence on Central Iowa dining, imagine the local scene without George Formaro (owner chef Centro, Django, South Union, Gateway Market Café), Terry Boston (Executive Chef of Des Moines Golf & Country Club), Kurt Chausse (Executive Chef of The Café and Aunt Maude’s), Dan Dixson (Chef de Cuisine at Sage), Jeff Duncan (GM of Dos Rios), Nick Illingworth (Chef de Cuisine at Bistro Montage), Hal Jasa (founder of Underground, Inc.), Ephraim Malag (Executive Chef of Tournament Club of Iowa), John Weiler (Executive Chef at Fleming’s), Chris Ranallo (owner/chef of Ranallo’s) and Hong Willer (owner/chef of Café Shi). All are ICI grads, and I could go on.

    An even better kept secret is the college’s teaching restaurant Bistro, which is open to the public. Each year, second-year students cook under staff supervision while first-year students wait tables. Not every student masters that latter role quickly. On one recent visit, my waiter exclaimed “Oh, wow, the plate is **** hot. Can I borrow your napkin?” That happened on just the second day of the new school term. Second-year students began the year in better form. Creamy corn soup was a revelation even compared to those in Des Moines’ best restaurants. Bistro’s was made with freshly shaved corn and Pickett Fence’s cream, a natural dairy in Woodward. Salads were made with fresh, local greens and homemade dressings — a tomato vinaigrette stood out.

    Fish tacos delivered filets of whitefish in a lemon garlic slaw with a mango chutney. It was paired with roasted new potatoes. Stuffed chicken was served “airline style” with the winged bone rising from the breast. It had a zingy glaze of Dijon and herbs de Provence and was paired with home made potato chips. Bistro’s gyros were the best I’ve had in Des Moines with thinly sliced, perfectly seared lamb served on fresh pita with cool tzatziki (yogurt based sauce), olives, onions and garden fresh tomatoes. Glazed salmon was perfectly cooked “rare,” as ordered, and accompanied with fresh fruit. From an Asian buffet, I sampled bone-stock noodle soup with pork and myriad vegetables, perfectly crisped pot stickers, nori-wrapped sticky rice with avocado and crabmeat, and a stir-fried dish.

    Pound cake was served with a firm crumb that nicely absorbed its chocolate Kahlua sauce. A hot apple cobbler was simpler and easier to appreciate. The fruit’s texture burst on the teeth, and the pastry was perfection in a pie tin. Like the best apple pies, it had been seasoned with restraint.

    Bistro also serves about fifteen themed, multi-course dinners each year on Thursday nights, including some special feasts created with l’Association des Cuisiniers de la Loire. That professional culinary group sends top chefs to Des Moines each January from our sister city St. Etienne, France. Bistro’s daily menu offers four sandwiches, two salads and four entrees. Entrees and sandwiches come with soup or salad and a choice of side dishes. Salads come with soup. A pizza of the day, a buffet of the day and a quiche of the day are also offered. All orders cost just $8. Dessert did not cost extra, although that wasn’t mentioned on the menu or by the servers. I’ve seen better values — but not in this country during the last couple decades.

  • Old Castle

    Old Castle

    Expectations often mess with our sense of taste. A drop of red food coloring can drastically alter the way a taster describes the flavor of a white wine. Tests show that most people prefer the taste of a generic coffee if it’s poured in a Starbucks cup. That’s why branding works. When people see golden arches, they expect clean bathrooms and cheap burgers. When they see a trailer-shaped building with black and white checkerboard patterns, they expect malts and around-the-clock breakfasts. Except in Johnston.

    Inhabiting a former diner, Old Castle Restaurant defies many expectations. Its breakfast fare is mostly just espresso drinks. At night it resembles an East European club, with live Balkan music, dim, red lights and a lively bar scene. Its remodeling has an authentic Old European style. Rather than tearing functional things down to build something new from scratch, the “make-do” architects just added what was needed to accommodate new functions — dramatic lighting, a stage, a full bar and a custom made rotisserie big enough to simultaneously roast three whole sheep. Old Castle’s menu is written in Cyrillic script, with English descriptions, but the food resembles that of Des Moines’ best bistros as much as that of other Bosnian restaurants. I’m not making this up.

    The present kitchen evolved. Old Castle opened last winter as a Bosnian café and has since been through three changes of management and menu. Like the remodeled ambiance, new foods found a niche on the menu without totally reconstructing it. In short, it’s quite inconsistent but it can accommodate many types of diners. Rotisserie-roasted Iowa lamb headlines the high end of this eclectic menu. Available only on weekends, it’s sold by the pound ($15) and diners can specify which part of the sheep’s anatomy they prefer. I tried skin, leg, ribs, shoulder and middlings. All were testimonials to the value of both whole animal cooking and rotisserie roasting — there was not a single dried out morsel of meat. Two other dishes — hazel-encrusted salmon ($13) and lamb chops ($12) — made an even stronger impression on a pair of local foodies. They wrote Food Dude that these dishes reminded them of the moment in “Babette’s Feast” when Gen. Löwenhielm declares he had tasted a certain dish once before and had dreamed about it ever since. Old Castle inspired that comparison by reviving recipes from the old Chat Noir café. The moist salmon was served with a divine Frangelico cream sauce; the lamb chops in a Chardonnay and orange zest reduction, with sage mashed potatoes and grilled asparagus.

    More ethnic delights included several forms of charcuterie. Smoked beef and cured beef sausages, available on a meza tray ($10) with cheeses, should please any love of hard salami and jerky. Two kinds of fresh beef sausage, cevapi and sudzukica, could be ordered in degrees of spiciness as sandwiches. Hearty daily specials ($6 - $7.50) included stuffed sweet peppers, cabbage rolls and a bean stew with sausage. A Bosnian version of homemade pork tenderloin was much better than its accompanying onion rings or French fries. Kebabs were moist and gyros had good sear.

    Breadbaskets contained fresh home made white breads one day, but stale ones two days later. Service was more consistent. Explanations about ethnic dishes were expertly presented. One time an acceptable order of roasted red potatoes was replaced a few minutes later with one that was much fresher. A full bar carries several Balkan beers and soft drinks, including the hard to find sugar cola Cockta. Coffee drinks were marvelously different, uniquely presented and made with a strong Turkish-type coffee and perfect crema. Desserts like carob cake and hazelnut crepes were marvelous bargains at $3.50. CV

  • Le Jardin

     Le Jardin duck prosciutto Le Jardin

    Go figure the restaurant business. With frightful inflation dominating the economy, 2008 should have been a quiet year of survival in Des Moines. Instead, it’s becoming our most spectacular year ever, with more superb restaurants opening already this year than in any year in the past. Le Jardin is the latest and could well become the most influential business model. Tag Grandgeorge’s Alsatian bistro in the Shops at Roosevelt shares space, rent and overhead expenses with La Mie, a pâtisserie that serves breakfast and lunch. The pragmatism of that idea is timely, but such arrangements can only work if both parties are committed to a similar standard of quality. With a rare brand to protect, La Mie could not have found a better match. Like the pâtisserie, Le Jardin practices French culinary arts with diligence. They brine their own meats, raise some of their own foods, prepare their own charcuterie and keep a seasonal menu that promises the best available fresh foods.

    Le Jardin pork terrineAppetizers matched multiple, simple flavors in handsome presentations. Brie Martin Collet (a cow’s milk cheese with distinctly different textures) was served with baguette slices and a marvelous rhubarb and berry compote. A rather lean pork terrine paired nicely with a Cumberland sauce (red currants), cornichons (small gherkin pickles) and whole grained mustard. A paté of chicken and pistachios was complemented by Iowa smoked ham, cornichons and fresh tarragon mayonnaise. Homemade duck prosciutto was the best appetizer, unabashed in saltiness with fat that tasted like dried fruit. It was served with a creamy green peppercorn cheese and dried tart cherries. Other appetizers were less adventurous, sticking to cheeses, fruits and breads. One deeply flavored soup used a duck stock and subtle curry to bathe potato ghocchis with carrots that had been roasted just long enough to turn sweet. Salads brought greens as fresh as any in town, plus heirloom tomatoes and beets from local gardens.

    Le Jardin hangerEntrees continued the habit of matching trios of flavors, in more substantial servings. Seared Muscovey duck breast, with spiced honey from Iowa Orchards, looked fantastic with crisp skin and less fat than one expects. Roasted turnips and baby carrots grounded the dish nicely and a cassis reduction did wonders for them. A Provencal chicken crepe soared with lavender blossoms fresh enough to actually taste, grape tomatoes and a tapanade that didn’t overwhelm everything else in olive essence. Coquillies Saint-Jacques (seared scallops) seemed quite happy in Grandgeorge’s peppery sherry glaze, fresh micro greens in sherry vinaigrette and roasted fingerling potatoes. It’s probably the most adventurous scallop dish in town. Le Jardin treated simple chicken breast to lavish amenities. Perfectly cooked, Sheeder Farm chicken was served in a fresh cream pool of morels, truffles and other wild mushrooms. This sauce could convert heretics to the true faith of pasture-grazed dairy cows. The super star of the menu was a dish that Grandgeorge almost took off the menu — hangar steak, a cut of beef appreciated more in Europe, where flavor trumps texture, than in the U.S. where people are not as fond of chewing. Grandgeorge’s steak was marinated 24 hours to soften its texture, pan-seared perfectly and served with onions treated to sweet, smoked paprika, with a demi glace and Burgundy butter.

    Le Jardin chickenService was amongst the best informed and most enthusiastic in town. Our waiter could answer every difficult question about the food and preparations. She steered me off some dishes and touted others as if they were her firstborn children — admitting that she grew some of their ingredients on her family farm. Prices were quite reasonable. Appetizers and salads cost $4 - $7. Wine $22 - $37. The most expensive entrée was $22 and three fourths of them were priced $10 - $14. Servings were so generous that I could only handle two desserts — a petit pot de crème with chocolate and a pound cake with more of the rhubarb and berry compote.

  • Sbrocco

    Sbrocco

    Sbrocco is the latest venture of Full Court Press, a local group of buddies whose themed bars and restaurants (Hessen Haus, El Bait Shop, Royal Mile, etc.) have reinvigorated the Court Avenue district. Their new café is also evidence that the laws of maturity apply even to fun loving crews with exceptional energy and imagination. Wine, not beer, is the focus here, and Sbrocco has discounted wine so much that partners said they heard they have aggravated some other restaurateurs. That could be. I spotted one $18 bottle that recently poured for $9 a glass elsewhere. Sbrocco’s glasses, served in Riedel stemware, began at just $4, and almost all of its 200 bottles were priced under $40.

    That’s enough to lure a lot of people into this intriguing hodgepodge of design where copper ceiling tiles have been welded into bar tops, banquettes have escaped from the Embassy Club and stained glass windows have found refuge from several churches. A cheese station anchors the dining room, and cheese plates included top rated French, U.S. and Italian options with fruit and fruit preserves. Hearty homemade breads were way above average, too. Good soups included a corn bisque and sun dried tomato with bacon. House salads featured good fresh greens (a rare thing in this rain drenched year), prosciutto, goat cheese, fresh green beans and radishes dressed neatly in lemon juice and olive oil.

    Duck skewers were served surprisingly without any skin or fat, and the remaining meat seemed despondent about the separation. Its pomegranate barbecue dressing tasted sweet more than fruity. Oysters were fried perfectly in crunchy corn meal and paired well with an inventive roast corn pico de gallo and a chipotle cream sauce. They were served on fried tortillas that detracted from the oysters. A marvelous bacon wrapped polenta kept the corn theme going with creamy smoked Gouda invigorating an under appreciated dish. White beer mussels were served with a good broth of Iowa beer, andouille, peppers and onions. The dish could have used more than the two tiny pieces of sausage, and most of the broth was sadly wasted on the bottom of an awkwardly narrow cast iron kettle. Accompanying pommes frites lacked the crispness one expects from that dish, but an excellent aioli compensated.

    I had planned to order Creole style quail but, while enjoying appetizers, I noticed people at the next table struggling to cut any quail meat from its bones and finally giving up. I switched to a nearly perfect escolar, crisp and moist with a crust of cumin and accompanied by more roast corn pico de gallo and a good cilantro cream sauce. Rice was advertised on the menu but missing from my plate. The best, and most inventive, dishes were vegetarian: “Sun-dried tomato risotto” resembled rice cakes — its starches remained trapped within the rice kernels, not released into a creamy broth as in literal risottos. Such deceptions backfire if the dish isn’t really good, but this one was — crisp, subtly flavored and paired beautifully with fresh micro greens. A wild mushroom, potato and kohlrabi “pave” was even better, despite taking liberties with its name. (No mousse, foam, nor even a square shape could be discerned.) The vegetables worked beautifully together, a goat cheese topping added contrast and the accompanying Port wine reduction was sensational. I taste at least 20 boring wine reductions for every one that truly improves a good dish like this one did. A cold strawberry cream soup made a perfect summer dessert.
    Bottom line — creative chef Darin Sturgill is a good match for Full Court Press. Like that crew, he’s committed to local foods, but he values eclecticism and risk-taking over standard operating procedures.

  • Django

      Django (http://www.djangodesmoines.com/)

    Five words over the threshold to the Hotel Fort Des Moines’ new restaurant tip off the equivocal character of the 150-seat brasserie: “Django — All French, no attitude.” This is not Julia Child’s persnickety French cuisine, but that of the new polyglot France, which is perfectly comfortable being represented by Django Reinhardt, a Belgian gypsy who played American jazz. This French place features beers on tap, burgers and Las Vegas style seafood pyramids. Like its namesake, it’s synthesizing a style from imported tradition and local culture. That’s even evident in the interior design, an archeological excavation of its 80-year-old building — part Deco (ceiling moldings), part wood and brass (wainscoting and bar) and part European import (a Berkel meat slicer and copper pot wall).

    Django 006

    (Chef Place has moved on to Proof)

    Owner George Formaro is a brilliant chef and workaholic who researched Django’s menu for three years. Discussing its development, he used a rare phrase — “French comfort food.” That is the essence of Django, and it begins with comfortable pricing. Though it’s possible to spend $250 on champagne, $60 on a raw bar pyramid and $32 on a rack of lamb, none of that is what Django is about. The restaurant has three different menus, for lunch, dinner and late nights. All keep prices under family-friendly thresholds. The wine list begins at $20 with the majority of bottles under $40; two thirds of the entrees come in under $20; all hors d-oeuvres are under $12; lunches range from $8 to $16 and include a side dish.

    The late night menu provided the most defining dishes. A Django dog ($11) delivered a house made boudin blanc (blood-free pork sausage) on a bed of slaw on a brioche, topped with melted Gruyere and a generous piece of foie gras. It was served with duck fries that re-set standards for the perfect French-fry. (It takes a $100 of duck fat to fill a fryer.) Even without the duck fat, the fries were extraordinary — twice cooked in the French manner at two different temperatures. Mine came heavily salted, so if you watch your sodium, advise your server. A generous portion came with “steak frites.” From five steaks offered, I tried a hanger steak ($14) that was a revelation of flavor if not texture. From four classic sauces, I chose a perfectly executed Béarnaise (lemon, tarragon, butter).

    From the dinner menu, I tried an $18 cassoulet, the paragon of comfort food. django 003My mom used to call Van Camp beans and franks “cassoulet,” but Chef Chris Place ups the ante. For purists, this is the Castelnaudary version, which means a generous hindquarter of duck confit was included instead of goat meat, in a stew of white beans, saucisson (French salami), house cured (with fennel) bacon, walnut oil and croutons. A plate of mussels ($16) in house special Pernod sauce (with leeks and cream) starred. Sides of lentils with spinach and scalloped potatoes were worth their $4 surcharges.

    Lunch delivers Formaro’s latest burger recipe, a coarse grind of brisket and shoulder. It produced perfect sear and came with exotic choices of cheese. A tartine of roast beef and cheese was not up to burger standards. The daily pan bagnat offering was confused — one day it was served as advertised on a baquette. Another day I was surprised by a soft-crusted focaccia, making me wish I had ordered another burger. Soups (French onion, asparagus and pickled mushroom) and salads were excellent and a charcuterie plate was even better, mainly because of a homemade pate of rillettes (pork).

    django 007

    Desserts may trip up purists. Profiteroles came with ice cream instead of whipped cream filling. The cocktail menu was extraordinary — even Sazerac was offered. That’s called the original cocktail and, because it requires an absinthe-coated glass, it almost became extinct. Other absinthe and patis drinks are also featured.

  • Jethro's

     Jethro’s BBQ & Sports Bar

    jethro's2 

    For years, Des Moines has been mysteriously lacking three things: 1.) Family restaurants with good, scratch-made side dishes. 2.) A comprehensive sports bar with an original kitchen. 3.) Any sports bar for Drake fans. Gateway Market Café helped with the first problem and Drake’s miracle basketball season temporarily assuaged the third one. Now Jethro’s BBQ & Sports Bar emphatically fills all three voids while becoming the year’s happiest story on this reporter’s beat. That judgment comes despite the growing pains of a brand new place that rushed its opening to accommodate Drake Relays fans.

    Since Jethro wears many hats, we’ll break this down by genre. As a barbecue, Jethro’s is making some mistakes, but its smokehouse (hickory and oak) meats are still as good as anyone’s in town. The most reliable smoked meat has been the pulled pork — moist and juicy, crunchy and smoky at the same time. Smokemaster Dominic Iannarelli said he has been using pork butts up until now, but by the end of May he will be smoking whole hogs, or at least whole suckling pigs, for Saturday and Sunday brunches. That’s a rare and wonderful practice that is disappearing from most of continental America. Jjethro's

    Jethro’s ribs came with perfect color (deep pink), a nice sweet bourbon glaze and a decent texture, but a bit short of perfect tenderness. Brisket was a bit disappointing on two occasions. It could not be sliced when ordered and pre-sliced pieces had dried out. Iannarelli promised that issue would be corrected in the future. Turkeys and chickens were both correctly smoked whole, on the bone. However, sandwiches of each were too dry when they reached my plate. I’d advise sticking to the whole and half chickens. Sausage (andouille from Graziano’s) was superb. Sauces covered the spectrum from sweet Texan, to vinegary Carolina style, sweet and hot Bahamian and even Bob Gibson’s famous white sauce recipe (cider vinegar and mayonnaise based) from Alabama.

    As a sports bar, Jethro’s is a dream come true. An old Pizza Hut/police station was redecorated with stylish touches, like a copper covered bar and polished wood ceiling trusses. High-definition televisions were everywhere, and waiters even remembered my esoteric programming requests from previous visits. Jethro’s carries every satellite sports package, even rugby and European soccer.

    The non-smokehouse foods separate this place from other barbecues and other sports bars. Onion rings were superb, buttermilk washed, lightly fried and expertly seasoned. Chicken wings were smoked and fried yet remained moist. Jethro’s fried cheese (aged white cheddar) was the first version I have ever liked. Even nachos had a unique option with waffle fries substituting for chips and your choice of smoked meats for topping. Chips, still hot from the fryer, and dip soared with a blue cheese-artichoke-spinach sauce. The macaroni and cheese was simply divine, with shell pasta and aged white cheddar. Sweet potato fries and mashed potatoes with gravy were marvelous, scratch-made dishes. Gumbo provided an original take on the seafood and okra classic: this Cajun soup used sassafras and chicken stock with smoked chicken and sausage. Baked beans were home-soaked kidney beans in barbecue sauce. Cole slaw came in hot German and cold Midwestern versions. Salads even offered a pair of good original dressings — cranberry vinaigrette and double chipotle.

    Half-pound burgers, plate wide pork tenderloins and thick catfish filets are all capable of distracting barbecue fans. The Jethro sandwich could become a competitive eating legend. It includes a fried pork tenderloin, pulled pork, bacon and smoked ham. Strawberry shortcake came with home made biscuits and fresh whipped cream. A peach pie came with caramelized pecans and bourbon sauce for toppings.

    Bottom line — Jethro’s rushed its opening and still came out blazing with originality across the board. Smart money is betting that things will only get better.

  • Cordoba

    Shotz & Grill Cordoba

    Every ethnic cuisine joins the American mainstream via the combo platter. Appropriately, the latest Latino kitchen in town combines many different things. First, it’s two restaurants in one strip mall. One is a family café with bright lights, no smoking and breakfast served anytime. The other is considerably darker and more adult, with pool table, big screen, high def TV, soccer flags and smoking allowed. These two share a mom and pop kitchen that combines the influences of a mom from El Salvador and a pop from Cordoba — the one in Vera Cruz, Mexico, not Spain. Both places sparkle with immaculate care and already have the feel of a friendly neighborhood community center. I could actually see my reflection in the polished slate floor of the adult side, without being the least bit drunk. Such Pan American combos create an educational environment for non-Latino people watchers. For instance, when the U.S. soccer team played Guatemala recently for a place in the Olympics, the place filled up with Corona drinking Guatemala fans. Yet when the U.S. played Honduras two days later in the same tournament, it was filled with Heineken drinking Hondurans. Bartender Margaret Gomez smiled while explaining that. “I don’t have any idea why, that’s just the way it is.”

    Both places serve the same menu, which is mostly Mexican with a column of Salvadoran favorites such as pupusas and fried fish. Everything will look pretty familiar to fans of other Latino cafes in town, with subtle differences. On the Salvadoran side, the pupusas were made from marvelously fresh corn cake batter stuffed with your choice of crispy pork, root vegetables and cheeses. Their accompanying slaw was mostly cabbage with slight vinegar dressing, without the carrots and heavier dressings that have characterized other local pupusas.

    The same fresh masa (batter) was used in the gorditas, delivering a calzone-like flavor of stuffed bread fresh from the hearth fire. A super bargain at $2, Cordoba’s gorditas were abundantly dressed in crema Salvadoreña, which is a sweeter version of sour cream. One day, I tried an asada version, which brought what appeared to be stir-fried steak, onions and peppers. Another day I ordered a pastor (braised pork) version, which brought the exact same thing. I liked the actual gordita enough to try the tongue and sausage varieties, too. Also among the exceptional sandwiches here was a milanesa de res torta, which resembles chicken fried steak on a home made bun.

    My order of “huevos rancheros” brought what is normally labeled “huevos Mexicanos,” or “revueltos” around here. The eggs were scrambled with tomatoes, peppers and onions instead of being sunny side up with a salsa. My order was cheerfully changed when I complained. Chile rellenos were delicious, served with poblano stems attached and stuffed with chicken instead of the typical cheeses. Guacamole was freshly made. Rice included corn and peas. Tortillas were served hot. Weekend specials included bone-broth soups of chicken, beef and menudo. Thursday and Friday specials included seafood soup overflowing with crustaceans. Good ceviche was a special on each of three visits. Horchatas and jamaicas (milk and fruit punches) were available but were made from mixes instead of fresh fruit. There was no dessert menu.

  • Alba

    Alba

    Half a century ago, people flocked to downtown Des Moines auto dealerships to ogle Detroit’s latest models before taking in a movie. The car dealers and cinemas moved to the suburbs long ago, but downtown is again the place to see the hottest new models and trendiest designs. This century, they come from the culinary world, and Alba is its tangerine-flaked, streamlined new baby. The café’s showcase, in a Deco era Ford dealership, is dashingly appropriate. A major architectural success, it provides bold embellishments without detracting from the now established premise that chefs and food are the new stars of the downtown night. On first glimpse, Alba seems to defy the conventional, minimalist style of the East Village café scene — with African orangewood tables, fishbowl windows, huge tree paintings, antique door ceiling tiles, curved walls, a door-less “private” room and oversized, Tiki lounge of a bar. However, the focus of that faux lava-walled bar room is an open kitchen with a chef’s table. It is all about the food.

    Owner-chef Jason Simon knows a thing or two about star power — he was an offensive lineman on Iowa Hawkeye football teams in the Tim Dwight era. He also knows how to train an assembly line kitchen staff. Even on a busy night, I never saw more than four chefs turning things out for two busy rooms seating more than 100 people. There’s always a show going on. Simon and company accomplishes this with a sensible menu of merely 21 items. Appetizer plates looked as arty as the venue: A hamachi (rare tuna) duo was beautifully served tartare and alongside a bright colored duo of paprika aioli and mango paste, with micro greens and blood orange segments. The yellow fin flavor was a bit lost in the busy plate; scallops, perfectly seared yet delicate, were served on a saffron-colored cauliflower puree with nuts and parsley; and thick sliced, Kobe beef carpaccio was rolled and served with a five pepper Ranch-like sauce, scallions, bulls blood beet sprouts and more blood orange segments. It sacrificed the essential texture of thin, raw Kobe for heftiness and good looks.

    The simplest plate of the night stood out — deviled egg salad with gold and red beets, pickled squash and more blood orange. A winter squash soup ranked with the best in this squash soup town, tasting of five spices and smoky bacon. A fairly simple truffle-flavored gnocchi with shrimp in a light marscapone sauce also impressed.

    Entrees were strong too. A rib eye was slightly over cooked but compensated with a superb foie gras sauce. A catfish filet was better, wrapped in double casing of prosciutto and magnificently plated with Brussel sprouts, potatoes layered with cheese and tomato and a surprisingly sweet parsley pesto. A poorly seared burger with aged cheddar and fried egg would be the only entrée I wouldn’t order again. Braised veal breast with leeks and tomato petals will be the first entrée I re-order.

    Desserts were not as good as the earlier courses. Is Café di Scala the only place in town that serves a soft textured panna cotta correctly removed from its mold? This is something our best cafés get away with that would be unacceptable in San Francisco or New York, or even Minneapolis. Alba’s ambitious panna cotta layered some fruit jelly between espresso flavored cream and a third layer of cream. It was served in its mold, had the texture of Jello and was topped with yet another segment of blood orange. A chocolate cake was better but included precious little crumb stuffed with erupting chocolate sauce. The menu promised buttermilk ice cream but mint ice cream was paired with it and didn’t work. The best dessert was a simple trio of three tiny scoops of homemade ice creams.

    Bottom line — dazzling Alba deserves its instant star status, but showmanship and presentation overwhelm other aspects of the kitchen arts.

  • Radish

    Grimes is growing faster than May radishes. The town’s population spurted more than 133 percent since 1990. Like most formerly rural communities on the brink of suburbia, Grimes promotes itself as the best of two worlds — still quaint as small town values yet sophisticated as urban chic. Since World War II, signature restaurants have been successful sales tools for this kind of community image. In the 1950s, Silhouette and Vic’s Tally Ho were deemed worth the drive through cornfields to what would become the new Urbandale. In the 1970s, Trostel’s Greenbriar introduced city folk to Johnston in similar fashion. While Mike and Peg McGuigan’s The Radish is hardly ahead of the population growth in Grimes, it’s still the first restaurant beyond Johnston with a lure to attract significant numbers of diners from the city, as well as farms, in the other direction.

    The Radish occupies a former home with nostalgic, country inn trappings and landscaped lawn. The McGuigan’s fire the friendly “Come over to my house” ambiance by greeting customers at the door and encouraging them to use the kitchen and side entrances, where chefs and dishwashers also greet everyone like old friends. Mike has a lot of those after 35 years working at several legendary Des Moines restaurants — Johnny & Kay’s, Guido’s, 801 Steak & Chop House, Toscano, Fratello’s and more. While all those places represent tradition now, they offered something new and exciting in their day. The Radish straddles such tricky ambivalence, too. Sunday dinner revives a lost Iowa art form, one that The Silhouette represented — family style, pan-fried chicken dinners, with mashed potatoes, green bean casserole and salad. That’s the entire menu and when the chicken runs out, it’s over. It often runs out by 7 p.m.

    The rest of the week, menu service features mostly traditional favorites, expertly executed, and some unique charms. From the appetizer menu, I tried: light onion rings; chicken fingers breaded in almonds and corn flakes with honey tones; and sautéed mushrooms in a good Cajun cream sauce with distinctive flavor of caraway seeds. I’d have preferred that latter dish included only mushroom caps to accommodate the sauce.

    A fine Kansas City ribeye came with a generous portion of caramelized onions, peppers and mushrooms, a salad, a side of mashed potatoes and a radish garnish for $19. The menu indicated that salads and potatoes had extra charges, so it was a pleasant surprise they didn’t. Gorgonzola pork chops were less appetizing, dry with a sauce that didn’t compensate. The house specialty fully deserved its billing — cannelloni stuffed with a sausage blend of veal, beef, pork and chicken, baked with fresh herbs, cheese and a creamy marinara. Jack Daniels ribs hit the small window of perfection during which baby backs pull easily from their bones without falling off. Salads and radishes were the only items that missed high marks — I know it’s barely spring, but I’ve been buying better produce in supermarkets.

    From the sandwich menu, Iowa standards were exemplary — hand breaded tenderloins, chicken fried steaks and hot beef. Lunch’s big score though was its state-of-the-art savory cheesecakes: BLT, sun-dried tomato pesto with chicken and shrimp; and salmon with wild mushrooms. Among desserts, the Italian wedding cake was sheer perfection, bread pudding disappointed with the predominant flavor of burnt cocoa. Radish has a full bar and short, moderately priced wine list with several available by the glass.

  • The King and I

    king & I 004

    The King & I is a dream come true for Des Moines, as much as for chef-owner Osmin “Mao” Heineman. She comes from Phetchabun, Thailand, a city situated much like Des Moines in the midst of agricultural abundance. Heineman grew up in a farm family and dreamed of becoming a chef. She attended culinary college in a food-obsessed nation, but economics forced her to teach rather than cook after graduating. (Yes, teachers are paid more than chefs in some countries.) Heineman saved her money for seven years and then moved to Seattle where she met her husband and opened several critically acclaimed Thai restaurants. Family matters brought her to her husband’s home state where she opened The King & I in 2001. It’s now in its second location, in a plain West Des Moines building on 22nd Street best known as “the strip mall in front of Earl May.”

    Don’t let the unpretentious surroundings fool you, this restaurant is a state treasure and Mao ranks with the top chefs in Iowa. We are now entering the time of year when her work in the garden bears fruit for her customers, when plated foods have been harvested within a few hours of cooking. If you have never understood why so many serious people think “tom yum kai” is the best chicken soup in the world, it’s probably because you’ve never tasted a version made with fresh, homegrown lemongrass. Mao serves such for a mere $3.

    Her Thai dumplings were a familiar version of ground pork in fresh pasta wrapper, but their accompanying black beans sauce with fresh ginger was anything but typical. Like everything in this health-conscious kitchen, they can be ordered fried or steamed. Tempura dishes were also given a personal treatment, with crispy, colorful cornstarch replacing the lighter Panko. Green papaya salad, a very difficult dish to make in Iowa, was perfect — crunchy as daikon and tart without being sour while fresh garlic and peas added bite and sweetness. Mao’s special “waterfall salad” tossed sliced New York strip over roasted rice flour and fresh greens in hot dressing.

    Familiar Thai staples are a mainstay of this menu. Curries mixed coconut milk’s sweetness with pastes composed of home grown chilies, garlic, ginger and galangal, which is ginger’s wild sister. My dish generously included fresh bamboo shoots and “ma-khue puang,” those round vegetables sometimes called “Thai eggplants.” Contrasting flavors danced happily in stir-fry dishes and summer rolls in which meat and eggs played with noodles and herbs in rice flour wraps.

    Specialties were more impressive. Divinely deep-fried fish cakes presented combinations of green bean, fish and chilies. “Golden cups” delivered the fleshy, illegitimate offspring of a dessert pastry and a Siamese shrimp boat. “Rama’s shower” retold a Hindu legend by subjecting spinach to extreme temperatures that crisped that vegetable until it begged for a cooling bath of peanut sauce. “Haw mok” is probably Mao's forte. These dishes require steaming heavily seasoned fish or seafood in custards of egg yolks and coconut milk, inside cups made out of banana leaves. I tried a salmon version in which fish and cabbage seemed to have dehydrated and then replenished their flesh with custard and chopped lime leaves. The texture was more like that of flaked, hard cheeses — it dissolved on my tongue, when I had the patience to allow it to.

    Sticky rice with fresh mango, forbidden rice in coconut milk and fried, sweet bananas topped the dessert menu. A short wine and saki listed included glasses for $4. The King & I is a great bargain, with lunch specials under $6, appetizers under $8, and entrées under $17.

    Mao recently added a sushi menu and a video screen displaying the dishes on the menu - for those who like to see what they order.  

    King & I website:

     http://www.king-and-i-thaicuisine.com/King-and-I/Home.html