Chow, Baby
Food Park

Park and Eat

Chow, Baby
I’m starting to think food trucks are like spiders –– you’re never more than a few feet away from one. We’re past the point of calling it craze or a trend. This is officially the food truck era. On a recent evening, e...


duck

A Flat Tire, A Loaf of Bread, and Wow

Chow, Baby
As my high-dollar hot rod (read: Hyundai Sonata) falls to pieces — due in large part to my neglect — I’m finding myself calling AAA all too often these days. Fortunately, thus far my strandings have led to little foodie a...



Chow, Baby

A Fire of Many Flavors

Chow, Baby
It’s located on a busy corner in a former fast-food joint. The name means “fire sauce,” the chef is named Rodriguez, and chicken enchiladas are on the menu — gotta be basic Tex-Mex right? You’d be so wrong. But then s...


Piola

A Lying Winter

Chow, Baby
All I’ve heard anyone talk about for days has been the weather — but I can’t really blame them, given how gorgeous it’s been. Except perhaps for my neighbor, who’s been harrumphing about how this mild winter probably ...



Beyond Lederhosen

Chow, Baby
My introduction to all things German was at Edelweiss German Restaurant (3801 Southwest Blvd.) when I was a kid. My memory of the place was that of a German theme park, with an oompah band decked out in lederhosen and dirndls a...


The Lowdown

Chow, Baby
It’s funny how much a name matters. Would anyone have boogied to the Beach Boys if they’d stuck to the original name, The Pendletones? Would every lame cover band in the world know “Stairway to Heaven,” had Brit rockers...



Just the (Food) Facts, Ma’am

Chow, Baby
Chow, Baby eschews “hard news.” Corruption, exposés, and who-shot-John are usually the province of my more flinty-eyed colleagues. Chow, Baby gets flinty only about things like poor service and boring cheese plates. So whe...


Signs of Civilization

Chow, Baby
Is there anything more agonizing than dating? If you younglings think I’m talking about your pimply dramas, fuggetaboutit. I’m referring to the cold, cruel world of being a food-addicted, neurotic writer on the wrong side o...



Widen Your Horizons, Cowboy

Chow, Baby
Every time my grandmother bites into a good piece of beef, she uses the same line: “This cow must have been in love.” Everybody laughs except my grandfather, who’s heard it way too many times, and me, because it makes me ...


Back to the Pasta

Chow, Baby
I got a little back-to-the-future jolt when I walked into Aventino’s Risorante for a recent weekday lunch. I thought maybe my DeLorean had hit 88 mph, and I had messed up something in the past that changed the present. Fortun...