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Saturday, March 13 2010
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Restaurant Reviews
The Malibu Fish Market
by Anna Harari   

malibuseafood.jpgMy mother used to tell me she would drive to Malibu several times a week.  She wouldn't stop there, just drive there and back.  To relax…to write in her head...to figure things out. She doesn't do it anymore, because of the price of gas, it's wasteful...but every once in awhile I'll wake up early and do the drive myself...watching the coastline as I speed by...I'd pay more for a movie...

When my parents first split up they weren't exactly on the best of terms. My time was divided. I spent way more of it with my Mom, and distinct brackets with my dad. My Mom and I had an easier time hanging out, satisfied with doing nothing.  One Wednesday, in the middle of the day, she drove me along the coast. 'Where are we going,' I thought to myself, but I didn't dare ask, for one because she wouldn't have told me if I had, but also because she probably didn't know herself. She stopped at one point and we got out of the car. She disappeared up a small trail you would barely notice, and I followed her up the mountain.

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The Eastside Grill
by Lisa Dinsmore   

eastside-grill-logo.jpgWhile back home in Massachusetts for my father's 70th birthday – which is so hard to believe – my husband, older sister Sue and I wanted to take him out one night for a first-class, adult meal before the nieces and nephews descended and the backyard grilling began. We tried to get him to choose a place he wanted to go, but he wasn't in the mood to decide, so he left it up to us. He was thrilled we were there – it's been a year since we were together – and glad for a night out, but the occasion was something he would rather have ignored. I can't say I blame him.

Since I haven't lived in the region for two decades I deferred to my sister, who's had her whole life to scope out the area. Having just come off a 5-day seafood bender while on Cape Cod – with no complaints mind you – we were in the mood for something a bit heartier. Plus, we had to please the parents, which is not always an easy task. Dad will eat just about anything. Mom is a bit more selective. Sue's choice of the Eastside Grill fit the bill perfectly.

We figured since it was a Wednesday night at 6pm we'd have no trouble getting a table. Boy, were we wrong. The place was packed to capacity and it's not a small venue. Clearly, when you make great food at reasonable prices you can thrive even during a poor economy. Northampton has plenty of good restaurants, but I doubt they were all as busy as this place. We had to squish together in the bar area (or wait for an hour), but that just made the experience more cozy and not as loud, since we were the only ones in there.

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Blue Hill
by Jeanne Kelley   

dan.jpgA friend of mine says that all the restaurants in New York City are good. Her belief is that is that with so many options, only quality survives. I’m not one to put her theory to the test as I have been to NYC only three times in my life and on two of the trips “fine dining” was definitely not an option. On this most recent visit, I was with my husband and 17-year-old daughter—showing her “the city” before dropping her off at college in Massachusetts. Our plan was to have one special dinner. If all the restaurants in NYC are so good, then how do you decide where to go?

I knew exactly where I wanted to go. I wanted to go to Blue Hill in Greenwich Village, and no, not because the Obama’s went there on their “NYC date night” (although how cool is that?). I wanted to go to Blue Hill not only because I love (obviously) the whole farm-to-table philosophy, but because I have had the opportunity to test Blue Hill Chef Dan Barber’s recipes in the Bon Appetit test kitchen. Dan Barber’s recipes are awesome—any one of these on Epicurious will please. After experiencing his creative treatment to vegetables—Cauliflower Steak and Kale Chips, I knew that if I ever had the chance to eat at Blue Hill, I would.

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London on Two Slices a Day
by Ilene Amy Berg   

beigel_big.jpgWhat is it with all the Queen’s men? In an earlier piece on great sandwiches in London, I mentioned my British friend Craig, who now lives in LA and told me “there are no great sandwiches in London.” At a recent TV Academy event, I met Steve, a young English director, who said the exact same thing. Even though he admitted that he loved the Brick Lane shop I trumpet below, he later emailed and said: “[I would] argue that 5 or 6 places out of 1000 still means we have a long way to go before we catch up with the US of A.” Then today, adding insult to injury, my friend Colin, who is here visiting from his home in Shepherd’s Bush, said that eating at certain places in Los Angeles is like a religious experience to him! Is he in the same LA I am? London is clearly having a difficult time shedding its age-old reputation as a town where baked beans on toast is a gourmet meal. But listen to me, Craig, Steve, Colin and assorted infidels – you’re out of date and worshipping at the wrong temples! Herewith, more great London sandwiches to try to convert you:

 

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Baby Blues BBQ
by Telly Kousakis   

babybluesbbq.jpgAfter a screening of the frightening (and somewhat hilarious) Paranormal Activity my pals and I wanted to grab a drink and maybe some chow. Three of us, on separate occasions, by different people, had Baby Blues BBQ recommended to us.

This is a place with a great vibe and some pretty delicious BBQ. We all chatted and laughed over a few beers, some sloppy ribs and crumbly delicious cornbread.

I opted for The Deuce, which is a platter consisting of 1/2 a rack of Memphis style ribs, 5 of their BBQ shrimp (which were recommended to our table by some random cook who came out for no reason other than to tell us we should order the shrimp - they were delicious), cornbread and my choice of two from an extensive list of "fixins". It reads like a who's who of barbeque: collard greens, potato salad, baked beans, mac 'n' cheese, okra - fried and sauteed, mashed potatoes, stewed tomatoes, pork 'n' beans, etc. I opted for cole slaw and fried okra. At $22.95 this wasn't such a bad deal.

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