Showing posts with label Restaurant. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Restaurant. Show all posts

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Kyoto Sushi Bar: Revisited



Before anyone starts to cry foul (or, more appropriately for our blog, maybe fowl?), this is not so much of a review as it is an honest effort to keep you, our dear readers, up-to-date on our more interesting dining experiences.

Andy and I are complete and utter sushi nuts. We love the good stuff. We love the baroque stuff. We love the semi-good stuff from the cooler case at Sendiks. We even like my sad-excuse for homemade sushi that I force on my relatives every year at Christmas... but that's another show.

About the only thing we don't like about sushi is how quickly our bills begin to rack up at the finer institutions around town. Which is why, when I first went to Kyoto (the sushi bar, not the city in Japan) about two years ago, it was an absolute revelation: all-you-can-eat sushi on Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday nights, and the quality... was really pretty good!

But, ripe fruit soon spoils, right? Well, sometimes. But in the case of Kyoto, I'm happy to report, after a number of Eating Milwaukee outings over the past couple of months, we have nothing but raves about the place.

Sure, more authentic sushi can be found elsewhere. Sure, some of the combinations are kinda weird (teriyaki chicken maki, er, what?). Sure, the service can be kind of slow sometimes, and my inkling is that it keeps the lightweights from ordering so much sushi. But, for those of us die-hards who have been conditioning for such a dare, Kyoto still delivers the one-two punch of quantity and quality that beats my monthly sushi craving into submission. 

Let's go to the highlight reel, shall we?


Some variety of maki topped with mango sauce. The sweet/tart mango plays a nice jazz-chord with the salty crunch of the tempura, so I'll let this one go with a, "Eh. I liked it."


 The "Sunshine Roll." I'm going to write the exact description from Kyoto's take-out menu, so pardon the tense-shifts, missing pronouns and adverbs, and bizarre syntax. I think it's kind of charming.

Grilled salmon, avocado, and cream cheese inside. Fresh salmon, crunchy, and spicy sauce on top.


The salmon inside was cooked. I guess I wasn't jumping out of my boxers for grilled salmon maki, but it was fun. In a grilled-salmon kind of way.


Shrimp tempura roll. Enough said:


 Spicy tuna roll. This is one where I actually was sort of underwhelmed, only because the texture of the tuna vaguely resembles that of strawberry preserves. I think the chefs' chop is so fine that when they mix it with the chili sauce, the tuna loses any sense of integrity it once had, and simply becomes spicy mush. Next!


Philly Maki. I'm ashamed to say, I absolutely loved this one. Cold-smoked raw salmon, avocado, and cream cheese. Absolutely to die for.


 And this is the part of the show where it becomes obvious that Kyoto is not aiming for authenticity: the eel nigiri isn't so much broiled as it is deep fried. Whatever. The end bits of the eel are crispy, the filet as a whole is perfectly done, and it's piping hot when it comes to your plate. Traditional? Absolutely not. Authentic? Ehhh, questionable. Delicious? Hold on to your hat, because this is a fantastic twist on the classic...


 Miso soup! We've missed you! No, we actually haven't, but you came with dinner, and like a friend-of-a -friend you're not fond of but tolerate to keep from offending, we ate the soup, anyway.


Oh, my deep-fried oyster maki. Still my favorite, after all these years. There's something so holy about a crunchy, soft, creamy oyster in vinegared rice, with avocado and sweet eel sauce.

The legendary snow white roll. So good, we ordered a minimum of two of them. On two different occasions. Here's the menu text:

Shrimp tempura, avocado, and cream cheese inside. Spicy crabmeat and tobiko on top.


I can't offer a reason why this one is so delicious, but it must have something to do with the perfect alignment of flavor and texture. Still fancier than true maki, but a treat nonetheless.


This is either the Magic Maki or some fourth-grader's science fair project. I'm going with the Magic Maki:

Shrimp tempura, crabmeat, eel, cream cheese, cucumber, and avocado


 Oh! One of my absolute favorites! Spartan, but nearly perfect in its simplicity. I give you, the spicy shrimp roll (spicy minced shrimp with asparagus)


Our nigiri sushi lineup: Yellowtail, Red Snapper, Tako, Eel, and Tobiko.


 Add this under the "I can't believe I ate the whole thing" column: tobiko sushi. Delicious, but one is enough for a single visit.


Four Seaweed salad, three soy burger dinner, two tofu dog platter and one pasta with meatless balls! 

It tastes the same. If you close your eyes.

I have to admit, this picture, now that I'm looking at it in my browser window, gives the seaweed a decidedly more yellow tint that it actually was: a bright, vibrant emerald green. The flavor echoed that brightness: crisp, fresh, a little spicy from red pepper flake, and nutty from sesame oil. You can order as many seaweed salads with your meal as you want (remember, it's AYCE!), so give it a try! And you don't even have to put up with snotty waiters who don't like alternative-lifestyle bohemians!


My arch-nemesis, the Spider Roll! Will I ever get past the idea of eating an entire crab, soft-shell and all, and just learn to enjoy the damn sushi already? Tune in next week, same fat time, same fat channel!

It is interesting to note that Kyoto has remodeled since our visit in 2009, resulting in a much, much more chic and open feel. The lighting fixtures scream Downtown, but the acoustic tile ceiling still sheepishly mutters, "strip mall in Greenfield, ho hum." No worries. The sushi was still a massive value, and for the amazing total of $55 for two people (and that also included two sodas), we consumed about $125 (market) worth of sushi. Which will always tip the scales in these days of fighting my cat for his own food and stealing ketchup packets from McDonalds to make spaghetti because I can't afford Chef Boyardee.

In short, Kyoto is still flippin' sweet. 



Tuesday, September 28, 2010

La Merenda


Well, if we have any readers left after that little hiatus... awesome. I owe you guys (and girls) an apology for our broken promises -- August was a tough month for us! Weddings, DJ'ing gigs, Photography gigs, and going back to school full time has taken a toll on my spare-time-to-write-food-blogs. But! We're here now, and that's what's important. Shall we take a moment to reflect on tapas?

My first contact with La Merenda was back in 2007, when I was working at Magnolia Hi-Fi at Best Buy (they don't deserve actually being linked to, btw). A gentleman came in, looking for a good sound system for a restaurant he was opening up. He told me it was going to be an International Tapas Bar. In Walker's Point. I thought... hrm, a stylish restaurant in the 'Point. Gentrification claims another victim.

Fast-forward four years, and suddenly I'm writing a food blog... and an International Tapas bar in the 'Point sounds like a pretty cool idea. Enter, La Merenda:


La Merenda is located on National Ave., East of 1st street, right next to Triangle Bar. The building is unassuming, and the signage isn't the most noticeable, so keep your eyes peeled. There is street parking, however, it's scarce and not metered, and you're in competition with every bar and club in the area, so you might end up walking a little bit. Don't worry... the walk is worth it.

The first rule of La Merenda is, it's always busy. ALWAYS. You may wait a few minutes for a table. That's okay. 

The second rule of La Merenda is, it's close quarters. The dining room is large, but there's lots of tables, and it's pretty comfy. If you're agoraphobic, take a few Xanax before you go for dinner.

The third rule of La Merenda is, tapas is lots more fun with a big group -- and the awesome wait staff will gladly accommodate such a group -- so bring your friends.

I've always had a dream of opening a restaurant that would adhere to the No Dogma concept of dining: having absolute no set rules or bounds other than awesome dishes, perfectly prepared. A place where Chinese, French, Italian, Greek, Mexican, and Thai can all exist on the same menu, and all ring true of their respective traditions. A place where I can make all of my favorite dishes and serve them in small amounts to large crowds and allow people to experience an entire range of cuisines in one dinner. La Merenda is this restaurant. 

La Merenda is the epitome of the No Dogma concept. Mis-matched chairs and tables litter the helter-skelter dining room floor. Wonky light fixtures illuminate loud orange walls. The interior is chíc, but not pretentious, fun without being silly. 



For this review, we attended La Merenda twice: once in early August as just diners, and once again, later in August, as a warm-up for the Milwaukee Eat Local Challenge.   Both times, we tried an insane amount of dishes, some seasonal, some more permanent on the menu... and I'll try my best to summarize all of the tapas insanity below.

We started things out with a cheese plate, featuring, of all things, Wisconsin Cheese! The star of our selections was a gouda with fenugreek, made by one of my favorite creameries, Marieke Gouda from Holland's Family Farm:


The smooth, creamy gouda was the perfect match the maple-syrupy sweet fenugreek, and Lori from Burp! immediately commented on how the cheese would be perfect for stuffed French Toast. But that's a different show. The cheese is served with a selection of nice 'n' salty cured meats, and kalamata olives. 

Next up: Duck Confit Crêpes with rosemary cream sauce. 


Good God are these rich. And delicious. Rich and delicious. But I think that the order should change... delicious, then rich. The duck is tender, flavorful, and fatty in the best possible confit-way. The crêpes were nice... a little crispier than I'm used to, but when I make crêpes at home (and yes, I do make them...), they're always the consistency of a whoopee cushion. The woody flavor of the rosemary was a perfect counterpoint to the strong fatty flavor of the duck. An absolute victory.

Cut to the Veal Osso Buco. Osso Buco is Italian for This Is So Damned Delicious I Think I Just Wet My Pants:


Tender, tender Wisconsin veal, in a stew of approximately fifteen gallons of red wine, served with a red pepper risotto that was good enough to warrant ordering the whole dish again. And again, and again, and again. There are simply no words for the veal. No. Words.

Oh, there has to be one in every crowd, doesn't there? Like the lady who breaks wind in church, or the guy who yells "Free Bird!" at every concert, everyone and their uncle is trying their own version of spring/summer/fall/winter/egg rolls. La Merenda does a Cantonese Spring Roll with pork and a menagerie of veggies and oyster sauce:


They're good. But a bit on the oily side. Perhaps par-fried, and finished in the Frialator again before serving? I have to say, I wasn't particularly enthusiastic about them. But Asian cuisine is touchy... if French cuisine is all about sauce making, Asian cuisine is all about flavor marriage: combining domineering flavors like fish sauce and fermented soy beans into a harmonious chorus. It's a difficult task, and I don't fault anyone for missing the mark. 

Oh, look! It's a Caprese Salad!


Wisconsin tomatoes, Wisconsin mozzarella, and Wisconsin basil. Did I hear even the Balsamic was from Wisconsin? Maybe I'm losing my mind. But it really doesn't matter where the vinegar was from, 'cause tomato season was over ten minutes after our salad came out to the table, and hot house tomatoes are one step above eating acidic beach sand. This is most def a seasonal menu item, and rightfully so. When tomatoes are one of only four ingredients, they have to be spot-on.

To be fair, the La Merenda Caprese has sautéed spinach and roasted red pepper rolled in the mozzarella, so there are a few more ingredients. And this may still be on the menu coasting into fall, although at the end of August, we were told that it was the end of local tomatoes.

Empanadas, no caramel apple. Well, no caramel, at least: 


Tasty little Colombian versions of the pocket pie, filled with seasoned pork and apples. The sauce supplied with said little pockets of porky joy was divine, and the spicing of the filing was dead on tasty. Perhaps a little pedestrian, but sometimes comfort food is the best interlude in a parade of crazy...


Thai curry... chicken, peppers, and potatoes in a coconut milk based gravy. Tasty, for sure, and I would have no problem eating a whole plate of it if it were my only entrée. But we're back to the Case of the Asian Food again, lacking a certain pop or flash that really makes your taste buds bounce around like kids on a sugar bender and your eyes roll back in your head. A good outing, but not the strongest offering on the menu. Which is fine, because it was a special that week, anyway, and was not on the permanent rotation of items.

And then there was the Prosciutto and Sweet Pea Arancini. Which is Italian for Delicious Enough To Drive You Mad. As you slice open the GBD alien pods bobbing about in a home made red sauce, you immediately notice the nice slices of prosciutto. Taking your first bite, bright green sweet peas pop in your mouth like Pop Rocks, and the salty goodness of the ham and risotto take over your soul:


Is this on the list of Must Try? Oh yes, it is.

Ahh, the Tomato Basil Ravioli. We were wondering when you'd show up...


Delicate little pillows of home made tomato basil pasta filled with Cheese Rock Star Sid Cook's Carr Valley Benedictine cheese, along with a host of others, with a light-ish basil cream sauce. The Benedictine lends a very, very nice funkiness to the pasta, while the dough itself cooks up tight and firm, with a good chew and excellent tomato and basil flavor throughout. Simple, reserved, but very well executed. 

Ever wonder what Heaven would taste like? It would taste like La Merenda's Beef Wellington:


A classic dish, with a Carr Valley twist. Which is fantastic, because you could serve Carr Valley Casa Bolo on an old shoe from a leper and it would still knock the socks off of anything you can find in a fast food joint. 

Here, the grass-fed beef tenderloin (which is an odd turn of phrase, by the way... the beef tenderloin never ate anything. Imagine the absolute shock and horror of seeing herds of tenderloin primals grazing away in a field somewhere. *shudder*) is stuffed with more Benedictine, ricotta, mushrooms, and rolled in a tasty tender blanket of puff pastry, served over sautéed spinach, and topped with horseradish aioli. Imagine an angel coming down from the sky, singing the most beautiful song in the world, whispering in your ear the absolute and total truth of the universe, and then punching you in the puss with a solid-gold brass knuckles. That's this Beef Wellington. 

My favorite part: the horseradish aioli, which, not unlike peanut butter and chocolate or LaVerne and Shirley, just makes perfect sense with the, er, beefy beef.

My least favorite part: the plate was finite. 

I believe the tenderloin was a bit over done, but I'll let that slide. Maybe. If you give me another plate of it.

Remember how, at Prom, there was the one kid you always thought was a complete dork and you never wanted to acknowledge that they were alive, and all of a sudden, they were out on the dance floor doing moves you only saw on MTV (back when they actually played videos...)? Well, the Sambal Goreng Udang is that kid.


Rich, creamy with coconut milk, and packed with shrimp and diced tomatoes, served over coconut mashed potatoes. The gravy was infused nicely with sambal, and I was really surprised by how much I loved this dish. My only gripe? My shrimp was a bit iodine-y. But I think I've become hyper-sensitized to this flavor as of late, it may just be me. 

If there was one dish that I flat-out didn't like, it would have to be the Jamaican Jerk Trout. While on paper it seems to be a winner, in execution, it fell flat:


The fish, steamed in a banana leaf, was still a bit fishy for me. I was immediately taken back to the Friday nights during Lent when my father would go down to our chest freezer, pull out a bag of cryogenically preserved fish we had caught years before, and proceed to batter them, drop them in a gigantic pot of smoking oil, and light the entire kitchen ablaze. 

Wait, what were we talking about? Oh, right. The trout.

It had the same murky freshwater flavor that I just don't have a hankering for. The jerk seasoning wasn't half as potent as I like, and the presentation was sort of sad and anemic. The rice, however, was fantastic! See, I'm not all doom and gloom. There was something positive to the dish!

Phew. Full yet? Yes? Well, tough titty toenails. It's time for dessert! 

Crème Caramel, anyone? 


Heavy, rich, decadent custard with a sugar-crack crust on top, sprinkled with the Official Taste of Up North Wisconsin Summer, blueberries. The half of this ramekin I was able to eat wasn't enough. Maybe two of them. No, three. 

If you're not a custard fan, this will totally freak you out. Crème Caramel is very sweet, and very rich, with a texture softer than flan, but heavier than a standard custard (since the principal ingredients are sugar, eggs, and heavy cream!). If, however, you're a fan, then La Merenda's version won't disappoint.

I wasn't able to actually try the unfortunately named Irish Car Bomb cupcake (I'm not a fan of glorifying violence through food... I understand the origin, I don't like the notion), but I was told it was the absolute end. I did, however, snag a nice picture:


Walking into La Merenda, one is greeted by a large chalkboard proclaiming the ever-changing list of local ingredients included in dishes:


With our large and lively group, 


we were afforded the opportunity to both speak with the chef himself,


and try a massive number of his creations, running the gamut of traditions and influences. If you've never tried a tapas restaurant, La Merenda is like starting at the top: local ingredients, brilliant pairings, and ever-changing specials. I like that there's a few dishes I tried that I didn't like: it means the variation on the menu isn't safe. When chef takes risks, exciting things happen. Go ahead, try it. I bet you get addicted to the Osso Buco. Mark my words!


Report Card:
Atmosphere: A-
Funky, cool, and totally No Dogma. But a bit crowded, and with concrete walls and floors and metal ceilings, it can get loud in there. If you're looking for a quiet, romantic dinner, find a place with shag carpet. 

Prices: B
Oh, this is a tough one to grade. Each plate ranges from $4.50 to $9, which isn't half bad. But keep in mind, for two people, look forward to ordering at least two to three rounds of two or three plates each. Things do add up, but this is dinner as experience, after all, and the experience is downright thrifty compared to a world tour. Individual items are fairly priced, but your tab will be substantial. Deal with it. The food is fantastic. 

Service: B+
The wait staff is harried and dodging chairs and tables, but friendly and will gladly suggest items if you get stumped by the massive menu. 

The Food: A
Marvelous. Lots of wins, and a few stinkers, but every single one a valiant and deserving effort. It's not every day that your dinner challenges you... here, you get to step outside your comfort zone a bit, explore some new options, and maybe come away with some new favorites. 

The Details:

La Merenda International Tapas Bar & Restaurant
125 E. National Ave. 
Milwaukee, WI 53204
(414) 389-0125

La Merenda on Urbanspoon

Monday, August 2, 2010

Irie Palace


Imagine my shock,

"Joe, let's go out for Jamaican food!"

We have a Jamaican restaurant?

Well, I knew we did have a Jamaican restaurant. What seems like eons ago, occupying the old Gaslight restaurant on the corner of 60th and North Ave., now is the formidable Mekong Café, was Spice Island Jamaican restaurant. I never had the pleasure of going there, and I don't think many others did, either, as it closed not long after it opened. That Milwaukee was home to any other Jamaican restaurants was new to me, but it shouldn't have been...

Just a few blocks from my Maternal homestead, smack dab in the middle of 76th Street, Appleton Ave., and Capitol Dr., right next door to my favorite Asian Grocery in Milwaukee, Chu Hai, is Irie Palace; incognito, almost invisible in a block of former offices-turned-startups, save for the bright, clean marquee and windows bedecked with palm trees...



Inside, Irie Palace is a taffy-colored delight for the eyes: the walls fluorescing with a potent yellow, fishing nets filled with petrified starfish, structural columns wrapped in brown and crowned with fake palm fronds, paintings and murals of bright tempera abound. I had to smile.



You see, I like it when a business which can't afford really fancy décor makes their best effort in the ways they know how to convey a sense of place. At no point does any of this seem forced or fake, but rather a genuine gesture of authenticity: you can tell that everything in Irie Palace was selected with care: from the paint to the wood lattice around the booths. 


Of course, the dining room was filled with Reggae, but this, too, never got on our nerves: the songs were specific, picked for that time, that place... this was not the "Sounds of Reggae" station on Sirius, this was someone's playlist on their iPod. I like that.

We started things out with a frosty beverage: noting that the menu had under its Soft Drinks heading, "D&G Sodas," I was curious what exactly we had to pick from, but I didn't want to sound like a complete schmuck, so I asked what our server recommended. "Ting," he replied without any extra thought or time. Okay, so Ting it was... Ting all around!


Wait, what the hell is Ting? I had no idea. Did he say "Thing?" Or "Sing?" His light and slightly lilting Jamaican accent made the word just fuzzy enough for me to question what it was we were going to be drinking. But, I put my faith in the fates, and waited expectantly for our Ting. God, what on Earth is Ting?

Ting, as it turns out, is essentially the Jamaican version of Fresca. Served ice-cold, it's a grapefruit soda, but almost a sort of spritzer, as it is at its core sparkling water, grapefruit juice, and sugar. 

It is absolutely, positively delightful. Not overly carbonated, not cloyingly sweet, but refreshing, and just a little bitter with grapefruit flavor. Now I'm hooked on Ting.

The menu at Irie Palace is brief. Like, less than a half a page brief. But, I held out the hope this was an example of "Do one thing, and do it well." There are a number of recognizably classic Jamaican dishes, from Jerk Chicken and Shrimp, to Escovitch fish, Curry Chicken / Goat, and Brown Stew Chicken. We all started with a hearty cup (or, in Andy's case, a large trough) of Jamaican chicken soup:



This soup is out of this world. Days later, as I'm writing this, I instinctively start salivating at the thought. The broth is thick, richly flavored with thyme and allspice, and almost creamy. There are big, tender chunks of potato, carrot, and chicken -- not dry, flavorless breast meat, but hunks of bird with bones still in, making you work a little bit for your dinner. Andy and Lauren got a sort of long, sausagelike dumpling in their soup, I did not (for whatever reason), but I can honestly say I didn't miss it one bit. The soup was pleasantly hot, with the sort of trailing edge of heat that I so enjoy. At no point did I take a spoonful and immediately feel the chili explode on my tongue; the heat was subtle, slow and methodical. 

I can see how it would be easy to make a meal off of the soup alone, and I feel no shame in putting this on the "must-eat" list.

As for the entrées, well, we stayed a little pedestrian, I admit. But since we were testing this waters on this one, and none of us is exactly a Jamaican food expert, I'm okay with that. The rundown is as follows:

Andy got French Fried Chicken:


Lauren ordered Brown Stew Chicken:


While I ordered the Irie Sampler Platter, with two meats (I chose Jerk Chicken and Curry Chicken):


All of our dinners came with a side of Fried Plantain and Steamed Cabbage. You can stop your groaning right now, mister...


As well as a bowl of beans and rice:


Let's start with the sides, shall we?

First, I know what you're thinking. The steamed cabbage must be cringeworthy, right?

I have an odd relationship with cabbage. Despite the fact that I know I should probably hate it for its flaccid, mundane texture, its watery, bland flavor, and even purely on reputation, I can't. I love steamed cabbage. I love boiled cabbage. I love fried cabbage. I love sour kraut. I can't get enough of cabbage. Blame that on my Pomeranian roots.

But! Irie Palace's steamed cabbage packs a one-two punch. First, there's the element of texture: slightly firm, with a sort of toothiness that is pleasant without being either mushy or crunchy. Second, there's the element of flavor: salty, savory, herb-y, and infused with that belle of the ball, the Scotch Bonnet chili. You would never know this cabbage is steamed, and even Lauren, an avowed enemy of cabbages everywhere stated, "If I ate cabbage, this is the cabbage I would eat." Such a resounding vote of confidence!

The fried plantain was a fun change of pace for a starch: tart like plantains are, but fried so that the sugars began to caramelize and break down -- it was tangy, slightly sweet, and even a bit crunchy in places.

The beans and rice was nice, if not a bit bland. There was the slightest hint of coconut flavor... perhaps a bit of coconut water in the cooking liquid? This is meant top sop up juice, not to stand alone as a dish unto itself, so blandness is completely forgiven here.

Andy's "French-Fried" Chicken was pleasantly spiced, well seasoned, and had a decent all-around crunch factor. This crunch factor may easily have been the bones that were still in the carcass, though, and this is an important matter to take note of: most (if not all) chicken dishes are bone-in. Learn to chew lightly.

The fried chicken was served with a sweet, allspice tinged dipping sauce, which was the slightly milder analog of the nose-hair scorchingly hot sauce that was served with my Jerk Chicken.

Lauren's Brown Stew Chicken was deep, dark, rich and highly spiced. I immediately thought back to my luncheons with my mother as a young, impressionable foodie at Shah Jee downtown: the gravy was so strong, so intense with spices (but never too spicy), you can't help but love it. Showing Jamaican cuisine's varied influences, Irie's Brown Stew Chicken is a little Indian, a little French, a little indigenous... all delicious.

My half and half Jerk Chicken and Curry Chicken was a mixed bag. One one hand, the Jerk Chicken was absolute seasoned to perfection. Hot, but never painful or unpleasant, salty, but not briny, with garlic and allspice and everything I love about jerk seasonings. On the other hand, despite what looked like a huge portion, I was dodging bones and gristle left and right. The meat was a hair overdone, and was a bit too dry. I understand that Jerk Chicken is grilled, and that grilling lends itself to overcooking and dryness very easily, so I know why it was dry, but I wasn't thrilled that it was.

The Curry Chicken, in a complete about-face from the Jerk, was fall-off-the-bone tender, in a bright luminescent curry sauce with veggies. If you're looking for an Indian-style curry, you might as well take a trip over to Tandoor, 'cause Jamaican curry is a whole different animal. The spicing is subtle, almost bland, and while there was no truly offensive flavor to the dish, it wasn't exceptionally flavorful. 


I'm splitting hairs, and I know this. The Jerk Chicken is very tasty indeed, and I would certainly love to order it again (and I wouldn't fear doing so), yet I can't help but wonder if it will be consistently dry, or if this was just a one-time event.

All in all, I have to say, I really did enjoy our visit to Irie Palace, and with the menu as foreign to me as it is, I would relish the opportunity to try some less pedestrian flavors next time we go -- and to be sure, we will be going again. As the sun was setting on our dinner, the warm orange glow filtered through the windows, cut up by the painted palm trees, and splashed across the yellows of the walls, and for a second... just a second, I wasn't in Milwaukee anymore. And isn't that the fun of a good dinner? Even if the chicken is a little dry, isn't it all better escaping the drone of Rust-Belt city life for a while?


Report Card:
Atmosphere: A-
Bright colors, island music, and friendly faces. It's not expensive décor, but it sure brightened my crappy mood when I walked in!

Prices: B
Price-to-portion is good, but for the money I would like to see a slightly higher amount of meat-to-bone. Most dinners are between $10-$15

Service: A-
Quick, friendly, helpful, and un-intrusive. 

The Food: B+
Tasty and different, including a long list of surprises (the Chicken Soup, steamed cabbage, Brown Stew Chicken), a few valiant efforts (the Jerk Chicken), and a bummer (at least in my book) in the curry chicken. All in all, tasty enough for me to recommend it, but mysterious enough for me to want to come back for more. 

The Details:

Irie Palace Jamaican Restaurant
7506 W. Appleton Ave. 
Milwaukee, WI 53216
(414) 461-8203

Irie Palace on Urbanspoon