Author Archive: Hannah Joyce McCain

Recent transplant to Tucson. Originally from Portland—no, the other Portland (in Maine, silly!). I like late-night conversations, thought-provoking literature, not falling off my bike on 4th Ave, and cooking dinner for friends.

FYI: There is no sponsored content on the Zócalo Hannah blog. That's not my style.

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The Wild Garlic Grill hits the mark with delicious French-inspired cuisine

March 9, 2013 |

It’s a trait I inherited from my mother, whose aesthetic taste is unrivaled: the moment I enter a restaurant I start to pass judgment — way before I’ve seen the menu or my waiter — based on the decor. Mom-and-pop joints and dives have it pretty easy with me: if I expect cracked linoleum and paper napkins, I adjust my pickiness to match.

The Wild Garlic Grill, however, shoots for refinement — and doesn’t quite hit the mark. The ocotillo-ribbed ceiling provided a rustic warmth, and there were a couple of vibrant, good-looking oil paintings on the walls. But the heavy, patinaed frames on the blackboards and mirrors looked tawdry, the “butcher paper” on the tables looked liked it should have come with crayons, and the bar was cramped and cheap-looking. Unfortunately, sometimes it’s obvious when a restaurant doesn’t hire an interior designer.

The good news: as soon as my dinner came out, the decor was the last thing on my mind. The food was delicious. Chef Steven Shultz, an Arizona native and a veteran of the state’s restaurant scene, is the culinary muscle behind Wild Garlic Grill. His French-influenced culinary background, fused with a more laid-back California vibe, is what makes Wild Garlic Grill a success.

Both of my meals began with an appetizer or two. Although the fondue lacked the gooey consistency of its classic forebearers — it was more like cheese sauce  — my dining companions and I polished it off happily. Mussels with garlic and tomatoes on my second visit were delicious, but the restaurant had run out of bread. Nothing to sop up the savory beurre blanc sauce at the bottom of the bowl! I wanted to dash out to a bakery, or dispatch our waiter. Our meal was marred, though definitely not ruined, by this shortage.

The highlight of my dinner came in a large, shallow bowl — so reminiscent of a Moroccan tagine that I found myself resisting the urge to eat the succulent lamb with my hands. It was the night’s special: braised lamb shank in a rich and comforting burgandy wine sauce, redolent with warm spices and accented with onions and mushrooms.

Two fish dishes also showcased the kitchen’s talent: a tilapia special served with a crisp salsa (heart of palm, avocado, cilantro, and more), and grilled salmon with tomato-spiked risotto and a beurre blanc sauce.

A vegetable side of the evening accompanies each dish at Wild Garlic Grill.  The first night’s vegetable medley included bell peppers, chard, and, oddly but not unsuccessfully, cooked cucumber. A mix of sautéed kale, zucchini, and Brussels sprouts on my second visit was too salty for me. Still, it added a pleasing burst of color to my meal — a delicious but incredibly rich linguini bolognaise with braised beef, pork, and veal that would have easily been enough for two hungry carnivores.

The restaurant features an entirely adequate wine selection and a small, somewhat bizarre cocktail menu featuring items such as a Smurf-inspired blue martini and a savory “sangria” that sounds more like a Bloody Mary. One of my dining companions tried the Summer Day, a drink made with muddled basil and cucumber — delicious, but misplaced on a drink menu that should have had pairings better suited to the complex, savory meals that Wild Garlic Grill offers.

The service at Wild Garlic Grill is a bit harried, and at moments the timing is off. The wait staff is warm and accommodating, however, and as time goes on the staff will no doubt learn the rhythms of this still-new restaurant. And next time I visit for a great meal, I’ll avert my eyes from those heavy-framed mirrors and simply enjoy some delicious food.

The lowdown:

How much? $$ – $$$ (entrees average between $10 and $20)

Who goes? Attracts a more mature crowd; mostly groups of friends or couples.

What’s the vibe? Classy yet inviting.

Is it worth it? Fantastic food for the price — definitely worth a visit.

Review: May’s Counter

February 23, 2013 |

Chicken And Waffle Experience Underwhelms

The subdued ambiance of May’s Counter feels incongruous to cheery Southern cuisine. There are bright red diner stools marching along the bar, but black and dark wood dominate the decor. Six flat-screened TVs tuned to sports stations are dotted around the dining area: heavy tables spread across a tiled floor that mimics poured concrete. Black faux leather booths—each with a bold red racing strip down the center emblazoned with May’s Counter’s logo—line the wall opposite the bar. The overall atmosphere of “sports-bar-meets-diner-meets-grandfather’s-mahogany-paneled-study” is polished – but boring. As for the food, the concept is robust, but execution underwhelms.

Two friends weaned on grits and fried chicken in Louisiana joined me for my first dinner at May’s. We ordered a few beers – May’s has an entirely adequate selection of cocktails and beers, including the kitschy option of a PBR tallboy in a paper bag – while we mulled over the trendy-looking menu.

I selected the “Hen” ($10): one waffle and two chicken breasts. The chicken arrived crisp and crunchy, its white meat moist within, but the batter could have used a jolt of seasoning. And the limp waffle was like elevator music: inoffensively bland.

My friend Daniel approved of his gigantic shrimp po’ boy ($11, with a side of tater tots or crinkle-cut fries), with the exception of the bread: it looked and tasted like an oversized hot dog bun and left him wishing for the traditional French bread. Jessie’s fried catfish “big plate” ($14 with two sides) was enjoyable, but she delivered a crushing blow when she admitted that the meal wasn’t as good as her elementary school cafeteria’s version. Her collard greens were unexceptional – and tasted inexplicably of cumin. Her second side order, grits, won top awards: fluffy and deliciously decadent. The three of us split two additional sides. Cheers for the crispy fried okra ($4), but the ranch dipping sauce overpowered. The house-made mac and cheese ($5) looked pretty, flecked with chile, but looks can be deceiving: it didn’t even taste as good as the boxed stuff.

My second visit to May’s Counter provided two delights: the pickle chips appetizer ($7) and the “best bite ever.” My dining companions and I dug into the crisp, salty pickles with gusto. They seem like a misfit among appetizers ­– they strike me as a perfect bar food ­– but they’re good enough that I’d eat them wherever they show up. The “best bite ever” I credit to the culinary genius of my friend Alex. He ordered the “BYO” ($12 for a waffle and your choice of three pieces of fried chicken) and deconstructed the whole thing into a mess of dark meat, crispy skin, hot sauce, and maple syrup, scooping it all up with bits of waffle. He fed Ali and me each a big bite of chicken wrapped up in a waffle dripping with hot sauce and syrup. Absurdly messy – and equally delicious.

Our “Angry Bird” buffalo chicken sandwich ($9) tasted solidly O.K., but the “12 Gauge Chicken” sandwich ($9) should have stayed in the kitchen. A thick, puffy, hamburger-esque bun and dry grilled chicken overwhelmed the tentative spread of grayish guacamole and a few slices of jalapeño. A side of succotash ­– a buttery mix of grape tomatoes, corn, and lima beans – was colorful and had plenty of flavor, but wasn’t good enough to salvage the meal.

May’s attracts families looking for a casual meal out and groups of college students looking for comfort food and a beer in a sports-bar environment. The restaurant, brainchild of Arizona chef and restaurateur Aaron May, has a good concept, and they’ve got their marketing down pat (“Eat Well, Drink A Lot” is their catchy slogan). With a relative dearth of fried-chicken-and-waffle joints in Tucson, sure, hit up May’s if that’s what you’re really craving. But, at least at dinner and lunch time (I didn’t try their breakfast offerings), don’t stray off the beaten path. May’s can fry up a good piece of chicken – they can fry anything pretty well, for that matter – but beyond that, they disappoint.

The lowdown:

How much? $$ (entrees average between $10 and $15)

Who goes? Attracts sporty college students and families.

What’s the vibe? Classed-up sports-bar ambiance; plenty of outdoor seating. Service is inconsistent but not terrible.

Is it worth it? Go if you want fried chicken and waffles and don’t mind that your meal’s a little overpriced.

All major credit cards accepted.

Thunder Canyon Brewery Downtown NOW OPEN

January 9, 2013 |

Steve Tracy is a straightforward, practical kind of guy. The day I meet him he’s wearing no-nonsense work clothes and is fully involved in the hubbub of work at Thunder Canyon Brewery’s new Downtown location (220 E. Broadway at Fifth Avenue.) He apologizes for keeping me waiting, but I’m impressed, not perturbed—Steve started Thunder Canyon Brewery over a decade ago, and it’s cool to see that he’s still fully involved on the ground in day-to-day operations. With plenty of work still to be completed before the brewpub opens on January 8th (ed: NOW OPEN!), Steve is good-natured about the fact that I’m interrupting his day to pepper him with questions.

Of course, the first thing I want to know is how Steve got interested in brewing beer—and how he managed to turn his passion into a career. Homebrewing is a widespread phenomenon today, but back when Steve opened the first Thunder Canyon brewpub, in 1997, it wasn’t nearly as ubiquitous a hobby, nor were microbrews as popular as they are these days.

“It was a big step,” Steve admits, speaking of the decision to leave his comfortable job as a mining engineer to open up his own business. But he explains that he couldn’t turn down the opportunity he’d been presented with: a mutual friend had introduced him to people in Tucson who were interested in working as partners to open up a brewpub. Steve loved brewing, loved the ambiance and interaction with customers offered by the brewpub environment, and, perhaps most importantly, was open to the idea of moving to Tucson—a city he’d visited in the past and found to be beautiful and welcoming.

“It was a quieter city fifteen years ago,” he explains, and the changes Tucson has undergone since Steve founded Thunder Canyon Brewery in 1997 are part of the reason that TCB is expanding downtown. “People downtown don’t tend to go up to the northern part of the city, and vice versa,” Steve told me, so it seemed like a smart idea to capitalize on the ongoing revitalization of Tucson’s downtown and Tucson’s growing appetite for good, local beer by opening up a new location. I asked Steve if he expected his customer base to be different downtown than it was on the north side. “Maybe a little bit,” he said. “More college students, of course. More industry folks. But really the brewpubs draw people from across the board—anyone from twenty-one-year-olds having their first drink to old folks out on a date. Craft beers aren’t an exclusive thing these days. When I was growing up, my parents drank generic light beers. Today, kids are growing up and their are parents drinking local microbrews.” Craft beer is the new normal—Thunder Canyon’s brewpub isn’t trying to fill a niche any more specific than “a place for anyone who likes to drink beer” (and from-scratch pub food—also a crowd-pleaser).

This doesn’t mean that TCB isn’t constantly innovating. “We’re always working on two or three new beers,” and “We always keep in mind what people are asking for,” says Steve. His current favorite TCB offering is the Cuppa Joe coffee porter, which is made with locally-roasted Cartel coffee, he says without hesitation. In general Steve prefers darker beers like stouts and porters—“I’m not so much a hoppy beer drinker,” he explains, though he adds that he appreciates all beers. Any guilty pleasures—a light beer or mainstream national beer? Steve looks slightly disgusted, and the answer is an adamant no. Well then, what are his favorite microbrews? He smiles and admits that he mostly drinks his own stuff. I get it—in addition to being delicious, drinking his own beer has to be the most economical option for Steve!

In terms of his future plans for TCB, Steve seems happy to stay relatively small and local. “In bigger [brewing] operations, sometimes—unfortunately—the accountants end up having more of a role in the brewing process than the brewmasters themselves,” says Steve. “If you’re small like us, you can make sure you’re using the best ingredients and never skimping on quality.” In Steve’s estimation, the biggest mistake a microbrewery can make is trying to get too big, too fast. “It’s easy to lose control,” he says.

Steve’s key to success? “Great people,” he says, such as his general manager and kitchen manager, who have both been working with Steve since he and his partners (who he subsequently bought out) opened the first TCB location over a decade ago. “Craft beer is about interactions. TCB is about more than just brewing beer and going home.” This is why, in Steve’s opinion, the brewpub is the ideal venue for sharing and showcasing craft beer. I look around the downtown Thunder Canyon brewpub—which, with its poured concrete floors and heavy wood tables, is inviting and warm even in its unfinished state. I agree that this looks like a fantastic place to interact with the people who make—and drink—great beer.

in pictures: the rooster cogburn ostrich ranch

December 21, 2012 |

Some things are really weird. For example: Tucson drivers’ propensity to forget how four-way stops work when a bicyclist shows up at the intersection; Skrillex; and the fact that the NRA claims that keeping guns out of schools makes schools more, not less, dangerous places for kids. Obviously this list could go on forever, but let’s skip ahead to #38 on the List of Really Weird Things: the Rooster Cogburn Ostrich Ranch in Picacho, AZ. Holly and I went there as part of our “Discover Tucson” series (which seems to be developing a theme of discover-things-PETA-would-hate-about-Tucson. Sorry, PETA!). I’ll let the pictures (below) do most of the talking, but first I’ll explain that what I found weirdest and most unsettling about my trip to the ranch. Basically, it was unpleasant to partake in a system that commodifies human-animal relations in a completely asymmetrical relationship: the animals, instead of being left to themselves, spend their days begging from humans. Of course, it’s not a huge deal on the scale of messed-up-stuff-we-do-to-animals—at all. But is a visit to the Rooster Cogburn Ostrich Ranch my idea of fun? Nope. The donkeys were all right, though…

“Bonding” with the donkeys:

But seriously: “Little Donkeytown USA”? That’s so corny. Or I’m just a snob. Or some combination of the two.

One of the donkeys is a smiling donkey, so we had to Instagram about it.

The deer were pretty but bizarre to interact with. They are obviously wild animals. (You wouldn’t be able to tell from this adorable picture, though…)

“Goat Penthouse” = gigantic question mark. (It has to do with how certain species/breeds of goat like being high up, which I get, but… Still… What?)

Finally, the ostriches. Alien heads:

Dinosaur feet:

Supah weird, folks!

That’s all for now. I LOVE YOU GUYS and I’ll share the MAGIC of “chakra glasses” with ya next time.

Sundays at The Cup

December 14, 2012 |

The Cup Café is the place to be in Tucson on Sunday mornings, and there is, accordingly, a substantial wait time for a table. In Hotel Congress’s own words, however, “The build-your-own Bloody Mary bar helps pass the time quickly.” Indeed, this creatively-designed bar, situated in the lobby of Hotel Congress and open exclusively on Sunday mornings from 10- 2, is even a destination in and of itself. Explains Matthew “Cheeks” Talavera, one of the bartenders you’ll regularly find at Hotel Congress at the Sunday bloody bar: “It’s not just about wasting time before you get a table at the Cup.”

Time might not be wasted at the Bloody Mary bar, but you might very well end up that way if one delicious morning libation happens to lead to another (and maybe another). Part of the fun is the set-up: there’s a cup on the bar full of slips of paper. Grab one, and in the style of a sandwich shop you get to circle your preferred ingredients: salt or not; your choice of vodka, gin, or tequila; level of spiciness; number of shots; and garnishes. Some of the garnishes, like pickles, are classic. Others are more unexpected: avocado, artichokes, and three different types of cheese are all options.

My companions and I took our made-to-order Bloody Marys out to Congress’s front patio—we can be counted among the Bloody bar clientele who were not simply passing time before breakfast at the Cup—and began a share-and-compare session. My brother and our friend both had delicious drinks, but—luckily for me—my own Bloody Mary was my favorite. I chose the classic vodka Bloody, chose “hot” as my desired level of spiciness, and garnished the drink with cilantro, capers, cucumber, and goat cheese, plus the requisite celery. (I was hesitant to add cheese to my Bloody, but I can’t really even resist goat cheese, even when it seems like a bad idea (which is rarely, to be honest). I’m glad I added it. The creaminess of the cheese helped to offset the spiciness of the drink.

Because be forewarned: concerning the “hot” Bloody Marys, Cheeks tells me (and I can corroborate), “You asked for it hot—it’ll be hot!” Indeed, both my brother’s and my Bloodys were exceptionally spicy. Even the mild Bloody has a bit of a kick to it: the Bloody mix at Congress, made in-house, contains Mexican chili, a Tucson-made green poblano sauce, and Tobasco.

The staff wasn’t too knowledgeable about the origin of the Bloody Mary bar, which was too bad because it would have been nice to hear the story of how it came to be. Apparently it’s been around for four or five years and “you don’t want to know why it’s called Bloody,” according to Andres “Andy” Parada, a Cup server and sometimes-Bloody Mary bartender. The Bloody Mary bar doesn’t need myth and notoriety to be a success, though (Hotel Congress has enough ghosts already, anyway). What it needs are good Bloody Marys—and that’s already covered.

 

street style: street fair

December 11, 2012 |

The lovely locals at the “Got All Your Marbles?” jewelry booth caught my eye at the street fair! Multicolored hair and zebra-printed glasses? Ys pls. (Also, what’s with the Batman paraphernalia in the background? Siiiiick.)

in pictures: the street fair, duh

December 10, 2012 |

i’ll see you at: the babies’ show

December 7, 2012 |

I’ll see you at Topaz. Duh. Do I go see shows anywhere else*? Kind of… Not really… Because (a) I don’t get out much (unless it’s to sit on Holly’s patio and drink a beer) and (b) there’s really something cool about being to support the endeavors of lovely people with whom you share real-life personal connections, and, as I’ve said before, I think what Krysta & Joel are doing is really cool—so I get out there and show some love! Oh, and bonus (c) the cover at Topaz is always pretty minimal.

ANYWAY, y’allz should all come and check out BABIES at Topaz next Tuesday, December 11th. You might’ve heard of either Woods or Vivian Girls… Well, Babies is what happened when those bands procreated. Or rather, when Kevin Morby (Woods) and Cassie Ramone (Girls) started making music together as a casual side project—a “casual side project” which is today serious enough that the Babies are in the middle of a wide-sweeping national tour. Stream the Babies’ album here to see if this is the kind of music you’d like to see in concert—I’ll bet it is. Wistful yet straightforward, with arrestingly direct lyrics, the Babies make the best kind of indie/pop/rock (y’know the kind of music I’m talking about? Guh, this is why I never talk about music).

*I saw Math the Band the other day at Solar Culture, actually. WOAH STOP THE PRESSES. Unfortunately, I suck and didn’t take any pictures.

 

 

 

 

not-so-good eats: sinbad’s

November 30, 2012 |

Y’know, maybe I’m starting to see what those one-percenters are always whining about: sometimes it’s tough to be spoiled. Now, I’m not saying I totally get it: I haven’t felt the pain of paying taxes on my $12 billion’s worth of assets, nor do I claim to know the moral agonizing that goes into the decision of: to insider trade or not? But… I’ve eaten a lot of good Arabic food.

The disappointing meal.

Okay, so the parallel between the experience of being filthy rich and having eaten a lot of food—no matter the cuisine—is a tenuous one. But in both instances someone ends up making a big deal about something that no one else imagined was even an issue. “Wait—my bonus is only two million dollars? It was supposed to be two point five! What a disappointment.” Or, in my case, “Really, this lentil soup just doesn’t have the right balance of spices to be perfectly complemented by a squeeze of fresh lemon juice. What a disappointment.”

What I’m getting to is: Sinbad’s was kind of a letdown. I got a minty yogurt drink, a yellow lentil soup, and an eggplant sandwich, and my dining companions and I shared appetizers of hummus, tabouleh, and baba ganoush. Let’s start with the positives: the tabouleh, baba ganoush, and yogurt drink were all pretty good. I’m easily pleased by baba ganoush, and Sinbad’s did theirs right: it had a rich, smoky flavor imparted by the eggplant and was made with plenty of olive oil, making for a rich appetizer. The tabouleh was well-made, too. It was fresh-tasting, with lots of parsley, small pieces of juicy tomato, and not too much bulgar. Finally, the yogurt beverage was yummy. I could barely taste the mint (unfortunately), but the tart, lemony flavor of the yogurt was well-complemented by the saltiness of the drink (if you think a salty beverage sounds like a weird thing, remember how good Bloody Marys are).

Unfortunately, the negatives outweighed the positives of my mealtime experience. The falafel had a good texture, but was totally bland; ditto the hummus, which needed more tahini or possibly more salt—it was completely uninteresting. The soup was bland. The sandwich was bland. I have had fantastic yellow lentil soups before, and this version was completely forgettable. the sandwich was dominated by lettuce (yum!), with only a tiny bit of eggplant in it, and the flatbread was verging on stale. Also, as good as my yogurt beverage was, why couldn’t I taste any mint!?

I definitely didn’t dislike Sinbad’s enough not to go back, but if I I return to find my next meal similarly lacking in flavor and nuance, I’ll write it off completely.

French 75 at Agustin Brasserie

November 23, 2012 |

Can you imagine a swim instructor who’s afraid of water or a Zen Buddhism teacher who lives by a hectic nine-to-five schedule? What about a bartender who doesn’t drink? Well, let me introduce you to Brian Halbach, one of four bartenders at Agustín Brasserie—and he’s a teetotaler.

“Well, I’ve gotten drunk a few times in my life,” Brian concedes. “Who hasn’t? It’s your twenty-first birthday and everyone’s buying you drinks—you’ve got to indulge those people.” For the most part, though, Brian abstains.

“It was difficult starting out [at Agustín],” he concedes, for that reason among others. “The restaurant took a gamble on me, because I had no experience in the food industry, let alone as a bartender.” But today, “I make a mean Bloody Mary,” Brian says, grinning. The hardest part of bartending for Brian is the wine-tasting involved in the job. The drinking is worth it, though, because he has been able to develop an experienced palate. To match the cooler weather descending on Tucson, “the food at Agustín has gotten richer, with bolder wines to go with the new menu,” Brian explains. “The wines are matched to the food and the seasons, and I need to be able to offer well-informed recommendations” to Agustín’s patrons. However, while Brian has learned to appreciate wine, his passion lies in the art of cocktails.

“I appreciate the dynamic of a well-mixed drink,” he explains. “It’s fascinating how over- or under-pouring any element of a cocktail can completely skew the end result.” For the approaching autumn and winter seasons he recommends the Diablo Margarita—“spicy; it almost makes you sweat a little!”—or the Steel Manhattan, which is “deeper and darker” than summerier drinks like the French 75, Brian’s favorite drink to pour.

Along with the science of pouring the perfect drink, Brian appreciates the face-to-face aspect of bartending. In serving, he explains, the goal is to melt into the background. “Servers are hidden, but the bartender’s job—you’re almost an entertainer. I get to dress up, you know, ‘wow’ people everyday: ‘Hey, I have a bowtie!’ and let me make you a delicious drink!”

The drink Brian is most proud of is his Bloody Mary—like any mixer at Agustín, the Bloody Mary mix is made in-house, but in this case only Brian knows the recipe. Accordingly, he’s not about to share that recipe with anyone. He does, however, indulge me by sharing his recipe for the French 75, a deliciously crisp and refreshing beverage that Brian describes as “simple and light, but with a complexity to it, too. I’d describe it as a ‘Frenchified adult lemonade.” Perfect for the last lingering days of warmth!

 French 75:

1.5 oz Bombay Sapphire gin

½ a lemon, freshly-squeezed

A hint of simple syrup

½ an oz. sour mix (house-made at Agustín)

Shake and top with cava (Spanish sparkling wine).

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