Mama DeMarinis: Accept No Imitators

A few things have become painstakingly clear since my accident on November 8th, some things have become a little more in-focus. I'm not one to claim that my outlook on life has changed completely, nor that I have somehow become a different, more loving, caring, stop-and-smell-the-flowers sort of person. No, I'm still the food-crazed time-crunched word-mongering lunatic I've always been. But now, there's a little more crazy mixed in. Blame it on the concussion.

No, I've become a little more aware of how much my friendships mean to me. I value them a little more now, relish them a little more. I can see them more clearly, I'm aware of how much my friends mean to me. And, without a doubt, how much I mean to my friends. And sometimes we need to be reassured of that.

Eating Milwaukee is a labor of love born of friendship: we started this as three friends who loved to eat together. And it should go that once in a while, we have the honor of eating at a friend's restaurant. Such is the case with Mama DeMarinis'. 

I have the pleasure (and I do mean that) of working with Jessi DeMarinis at the funeral home which keeps the lights on here at the Eating Milwaukee Compound. Jessi married into the DeMarinis clan: her husband Vince is third-generation in the restaurant biz. During the day, Jessi keeps the operations of the funeral home humming along, but at night, almost à la Flashdance, Jessi switches gears to wait tables at the restaurant. 

It is because of Jessi that I started going to DeMarinis, in a sign of camaraderie to support her on a Friday night. But it is because of Vince's mastery in the kitchen that we keep coming back, to continue sampling his latest creations, or to be lulled into a beautiful food coma by our all-time favorites. 

Now, you might be wondering what all of the keyword nonsense regarding Scott Walker is about. Well, I'll tell you.

You see, I've been to DeMarinis' a million times, but our last visit was Andy and Lauren's first. And, lo and behold, who should be sitting at the waitress' table? Governor Elect Scott Walker. Hmph. Strange, but true, and of course, we have the pictures to prove it!

Now, poor Jessi looks as though someone slipped some horse tranquilizer into her Diet Coke, and such continues a long-standing tradition of my taking her picture at exactly the wrong moment. But, the other shot I had has her looking perfect and Scott Walker looking sedated. And, sorry Jessi, but I'm not about to infuriate our state's next governor!

DeMarinis' is a prototypical Milwaukee restaurant-bar, built on the first floor of a sizable Milwaukee Bungalow duplex. Inside, you'll find a homey dining room, crowded but workable, and a large bar. Since July, every business in Wisconsin is smoke-free, and DeMarinis is no exception. 

As luck would have it, Scott Walker and his party were finishing their meal as we arrived, and we were able to snag his table after he left.

The menu at DeMarinis' is comprehensive, but not overwhelming. It covers the basics: pasta and pizza. Don't expect anything exotic, this isn't that kind of Italian. Do expect lots of homemade sauces, crazy delicious (voted City's Best by AOL, btw) seasonal pizzas, a killer Lenten fish fry (or delicious baked fish).. 

Vince makes almost everything on the menu from scratch, and it shows. We started our meal off with a half-and-half sampling... the deep-fried portabella (and yes, spelling it portabello, portabella, or portobello is all fine... I checked) topped with cheese is Vince's own recipe, while the breadsticks filled with cheese are bought frozen. Either way, they're both tasty:

Breadsticks filled with Mozzarella

Fried 'bella Cap with Cheese

The breadsticks and the 'shroom are both served with Vince's homemade Sugo, while the portabella is also available with his homemade Peppercorn or traditional Ranch. Both dressings are insanely rich and creamy, with the Peppercorn being the favorite at our table: with grated cheese mixed in, and a spicy but well-behaved finish on the tongue.

The 'shroom is one of our favorites: simple, and unpretentious. The big mushroom cap is meaty and has a nice tooth to it, never mushy or muddy like some can get. Contrast the meaty chew with the crunchy breading, toss on some bubbly melted mozzarella, and you've got an awesome bar-food meal starter.

It should be noted, however, that the night we went as a group, a fryer was down, and as such, we could not indulge in the home-made onion rings that I have probably gained at least 20 pounds from. Vince slices fresh sweet onions on a mandolin -- for every order -- and breads them moments before he sends them to a sweet hereafter in the Frialator. The result is onion strings with tons of flavor, an awesome crunch, and a lot less grease than you'd expect from a steakhouse variety. Served with the homemade peppercorn ranch, they're well worth the inevitable indigestion.

Andy and Lauren ordered a Pepperoni and Fresh Mushroom pie, 

while I ordered my all-time favorite off-menu extravaganza: the Vinny Special, also known as a sausage patty completely swallowed by a sea of sugo, mozzarella, mushrooms, onions, and hot banana peppers:

Along with a side of spaghetti slathered in, you guessed it, more sugo:

I think it's important to note I'm a fan of both DeMarinis' red sauces: the sugo is a little more straightforward and what American tastes would be used to. The Marinara is much, much spicier, with an acidic tang, lots of diced bell pepper and onion, and an abundance of oregano. 

Lauren also ordered a side of mostaccioli with garlic butter:

I love that Vince tosses his pasta with sauce before plating it. I know it's a simple thing, but every single bleedin' strand of spaghetti on my plate had a perfect thin coating of sauce on it. Lauren's mostaccioli was ideally coated in amazingly flavorful garlic-parmesan-parsley butter. It's little things that take a few extra seconds that show that even simple cuisine can still be elegant and exceptionally executed. 

On other occasions, I've also sampled the Chicken Parmesan, along with Vince's off-menu (but soon to be returning) Alfredo.

The chicken parmesan is a fantastically thin chicken breast, pounded, seasoned, and breaded in-house, fried to GBD perfection, and then slathered with either sugo or marinara, topped with mozzarella, and baked until bubbly and melty. It's simple, it's not cutting edge, and it's not avant-garde, but it is fantastically delicious.

Vince's alfredo is a wonderful change of pace from bottled alfredos, or chemically-induced alfredo that we've become so used to at the Olive Gardens of the world. Heavy cream, garlic, and grated cheese come together in a ménage à trois of rich dairy insanity. The texture isn't the velvety smooth sauce many are used to: the cheese stays a bit gritty, and the flavor is less buttery and more cheesy, but I adore it. The night I had it, I asked Vince to add in whatever he saw fit, and he put in the kitchen sink; spinach, bell peppers, onions, broccoli, and artichoke hearts, along with a seared chicken breast.

DeMarinis' pie follows traditional Milwaukee Party Style rules: sheet pan, medium-thin crust, and square slices. Vince bakes his to a moderate doneness by default, resulting in a crust that is neither cracker-crisp nor soggy, but somewhere in between. The kitchen staff will gladly leave your pie in a little longer if you like it on the crunchy side, like I do. Of course, the red sauce or pesto (whichever you'd like) is homemade, and the blend of cheeses is a big flavor bullseye.

Which leads me to DeMarinis' sausage...

This is not from a shrink-sealed package from Klement's. It's not even bulk sausage from a butcher shop. Every ounce of Italian Sausage you eat at DeMarinis' is custom-blended from a generations-old family recipe, unchanged and phenomenal. The same sausage that is plopped in little blobs on the pizza makes up the sausage patty, traditionally found on the appropriately enough named Sausage Patty Sandwich. Salty, spicy, fatty, juicy, and porky... I'm not really sure if there is the need for anything else in life. Maybe a shower once in while. But that's about it.

Epilogue

I know I go into this with a bias: the DeMarinis' are good friends, and I want to see them succeed and grow in their business, so I want to hype them up. But our review of the restaurant is a fair one, biased, but true, and you can ask their legions of loyal customers and you'll hear the same gushing praise. Heck, ask the soon-to-be Governor! DeMarinis' isn't flashy, when you walk in, you're not magically whisked away to some villa in the Italian countryside. In fact, at every turn, in every way, you're reminded that you're in Milwaukee: a hard working, blue-collar town made up of a diverse crowd of people... just trying to make it. At the end of the day, especially these days, it's nice to share some table space with some friends, chat it up with Jessi or Kimbo, listen to Vince get excited about locally sourced ingredients, and relax knowing that we're all in this together, whatever this is, and we're all very, very lucky to have it.

Report Card:

Atmosphere: A

Oh, sure. It's not stylish. You don't need to wear a jacket, and there's no gimmicky theme. Plastic grapes, red ceiling tiles, and the most diverse crowd gathered in any single place in Milwaukee. It's loud, it's crowded, you will no doubt hear your neighbor's conversation as clearly as your own. But this is a community, and this is dining as a shared experience. This is not an intimate date restaurant, this is loud, boisterous, Friday-night-pizza-with-the-family. And I wouldn't want it any other way. 

Prices: B+

Nothing on DeMarinis' menu is what I would consider expensive.

Service: 

My best friend is a waitress here. I don't think I should make any comments...

The Food: A-

Simple Italian, simply delicious. Don't limit yourself to their pizza! I love the pies, but there's a lot of tastes that languish elsewhere on the menu that you'd be a fool to leave uneaten. 

The Details:

Mama De Marinis

2457 S. Wentworth Ave.  

Milwaukee, WI 53207

(414) 481-1770

Of course, they do a brisk carry-out business, too!

The Eatery on Farwell

It's really breathtaking how time gets away from us these days. It feels like only yesterday that summer was beginning to bloom, and we had all the time in the world. Now it's cold, it's been two weeks since we ate at The Eatery, and I'm sitting on a sunny Saturday afternoon looking out the window at bare trees and watching my very angry cat pace back and forth in front of his empty food dish. I'm hungry too, jerkface. We'll both eat when the blog gets done.

We were introduced to The Eatery, at least formally, at Burp!'s Gumbo Gitdown at the onset of October. We were a little surprised, but in a pleasant way, that the folks at The Eatery brought their andouille chicken chili, as opposed to gumbo, to the event, but I was happy to find out it was, at least, a regular menu item.

At GGD, we really enjoyed the chili, with one little gripe... the beans were crunchy. We weren't the only ones who observed this, so I'm fairly confident in saying it wasn't just my imagination. The flavors were great, the chive cream topping, despite its frightening institution-green color, was delightful, and they certainly brought enough -- ten full trays! -- but the beans were undercooked. I chalked it up to cooking a massive batch of something they probably normally did pot-by-pot. But more on that later.

The Eatery is located in a funky old brick building on Farwell which has housed a number of businesses over the past few years. Rumor has it that the location is cursed -- restrictions from the neighboring condo developments limit hours on the patio during the summer, thus stunting the potential of the location from becoming a high-class hangout. I'm not completely sold on this -- there's plenty of successful businesses on the East Side (and elsewhere) that don't have any patios at all and still are able to maintain a vibrant following... but a late-night patio certainly doesn't hurt, either...

Inside, the décor is spartan and a little disjointed. Walls of pumpkin and sage are dotted with black and white prints of vintage photos, and faux oiled-brass caged workshop lights hang next to dainty chandeliers. 

It's not that the design is bad... far from it. I guess I just couldn't help feeling a bit at sea about the whole thing. Is it supposed to feel a bit post-industrial loft-ish? That would explain the old work lights and the dark wood and ceiling. But what about the chandeliers and the conflicting color palette? (oh, I know. I'm getting a little detailed here. But really... I pulled out my color wheel! Sage and pumpkin are incompatible hues!). The bathrooms are lush, with floating glass-basin sinks with overflow fixtures, but the grout work is a little rough. So, what message do we take away?

The bar area makes up the vast majority of the floor space of the restaurant,

and well stocked it is, including The Eatery's own Frankenstein monster, an in-house infused vodka used for their generously garnished Bloody Marys:

and, of course, a smiling face serving it all up: (sorry, couldn't resist!) 

We started our meal off with the "Tootsie Rolls" (please, Tootsie Roll Industries, don't sue us!), wonton wrappers filled with cream cheese, red peppers, shrimp, and spring onions:

My God, these were amazing. Perfectly creamy, cheesy, and with the distinct flavor of shrimp that I don't mind one bit. The wonton wrappers weren't fried to a crunchy crisp, but were left a little flaccid, which I actually liked here... sometimes, we get overzealous with these things, and when you bite into them, shards of hard-fried wonton wrapper rip into your soft tissue like shrapnel. Nope, no mouth-ripping here. Only creamy, rich shrimpy goodness. Oh, and the honey dijon dipping sauce? The sweet was a fun contrast with the fatty cheese, but we all agreed they were splendid on their own. I understand the unwashed masses clamor for a dipping sauce. That's fine. But don't feel obligated to have to dip... these gigantic shrimp rangoons stood on their own.

We also ordered the Andouille Pepper Jack Dip:

Which left us all incredible confused. Were the deep fried bread chunks garnish? Was that what we dipped? The GBD bread was oily, what being little sponges dunked in the Frialator for a few minutes. Remember our discussion about Mouth Shrapnel? There ya go. 

There was too much dip in the sourdough bread bowl to start by tearing off pieces, it would have been like the Boston Molasses Disaster except with searing culinary-napalm molten cheese. So, we used the cubes until things cooled down a bit.

The dip was nice, but lacked a "killer app" for me. It was a bit gritty, and while spicy with the pepper jack and andouille, didn't have any bright or truly salty notes for me. A good outing, but needs a bit of tweaking.

Andy ordered the "Turn Up the Heat" burger:

While Lauren ordered the Mac and Cheese:

Adam ordered the Pecan Chicken:

and I, the "Pig in a Pot":

Andy's burger had amazing flavor, and despite the name, wasn't painfully hot. The combination of mozzarella, jalapeño, cilantro, and onion in the patty, along with chipotle mayo, pico, and pepper jack was tasty hot harmony. Certainly not as spicy as it sounds.

Lauren's Mac and Cheese was mild and well executed. The noodles were plentiful and well cooked, and the cheese sauce was demure and present in a quantity perfectly proportioned to pasta. Lauren also ordered a small crock of French Onion Soup:

The thick, rich soup was topped by the usual croutons and mozzarella and swiss cheese... sorry, purists, no Gruyère or even Provolone here. Lauren noted that the soup had an off note: I tasted it, and knew exactly what she was talking about: wine.

Okay, villagers, put down your pitchforks and douse those torches, I'm not going to get into an argument here. I know wine is an essential part of French onion soup. Every recipe I've ever seen calls for it -- either red, white, vermouth, or cooking sherry -- it's always there. Alton Brown, whom I'm apt to follow, uses white in his version. So what's with the "off note" comment, you ask?

It was too forward. The onions were singing back-up to the wine's James "Thunder" Early. And as you already know, Effie does not sing back-up. Neither should onions. 

Adam's chicken was delightful, with a sweet champagne sauce and creamy risotto. The chicken was cooked perfectly, tender and juicy and not the least bit dry.

My Pig in a Pot was an interesting animal indeed... and I immediately got the punch line: it's much less about the pork in a terra cotta flower pot, and much more about the flavors all being "earthy": baked potato, Brussels sprouts, mushrooms, and pork loin. I get it.

The potato, while cooked through, was dry without toppings. I have a deep-seeded aversion to baked potatoes stemming from them being on nearly every dinner menu served at our kitchen table as a child, so there is some bias there. But even with my dislike of roasted spuds, don't baked potatoes need something on them? I asked for a side of butter, which helped. But it was still, er, kinda blah.

The 'sprouts were delightful and hearty, but when they cooled down (and they did...), that stinky jock-strap smell of cabbage starts to creep up on you. This isn't the Eatery's fault: this is the veggie being true to what it is: tiny little jock-strap smelling cabbages. I still liked 'em, and the fragrance only became noticeable late in the meal, once they had cooled to room temp.

My pork loin was planted in the midst of sautéed mushrooms in a rich, wine (or was it cognac? I can never tell...) based pan sauce. Topped with muenster cheese, then with the Eatery's version of a duxelles, and then adorned with an edible flower. Awww...

The pork loin was like butter. The pan sauce was Holy. My conflict arose with the duxelles, which was drier and coarser than I've ever encountered. For those of you unfamiliar with a duxelles, please be sure to study before coming to class. Run along to the Principal's office. 

It just was a bit too much. A little dry, but well flavored, the duxelles became the star of the dish. The whole point of duxelles in French cuisine is that it serves as a foundation to flavor. As AB says, "I'm pretty sure there are whole buildings in France that are mortared together with this stuff." Eatery Guys: I really liked it. I really really did. But consider making the duxelles a bit finer, a bit more most, and a bit less... I felt like Zahi Hawass trying to unearth the long-lost remains of Pharaoh Tut Ahnk-Porkman. 

So, where does that leave us?

The Eatery is new, and still growing into their britches. If a restaurant makes it through their first year of trial-and-error (and sadly, 75% don't), they're usually in good shape. The Eatery has some really brilliant flashes, some genuinely good ideas and a really solid foundation to build upon: I think there's just a bit of fine tuning to be done. This is fine, as long as The Eatery stays an organic, malleable restaurant. 

And as for the case of the chili with crunchy beans? Well, we wanted to see if it was a fluke, so we all had a little taste of the day's batch. And the beans? Crunchy. Crunchy? Is this a new food trend? I always hate to critique something I don't understand, which is why I don't watch golf. Maybe undercooked legumes are the new hip thing, like skinny jeans and fixed-gear bicycles? 

On the whole, we liked The Eatery, and it's the sort of place we look forward to revisiting, and watching grow. After all, a truly successful restaurant isn't one created with fancy marketing campaigns and focus groups -- it grows out of experience and change, adjusting to the time and preferences of its customers. I'll be interested to see exactly where The Eatery is one year from now -- I certainly hope that by then it has become an East Side fixture.

Report Card:

Atmosphere: B-

An odd mix of industrial and Home Depot chíc. I'm not quite sure what to make of it. Maybe the vibe would be different on any other night than Sunday.

Prices: A-

Very, very fair. Portion sizes were comfortable without being overwhelming, but the food by and large is rich and heavy, so you end up feeling like you ate a lot more than you actually did. Which I guess is a mixed blessing. Either way, the quality of the food belies the price. 

Service: A-

We were among two other tables occupied the night we visited, so wait staff didn't really have a huge challenge on their hands. Nonetheless, everything went smoothly and our food arrived quickly. 

The Food: B

I see great things on the horizon. As it stands now, The Eatery provides an above-average dining experience at prices I'm still a little surprised at, but is a bit hit-and-miss with the details. We all enjoyed our meals, and that's the important thing. I look forward to seeing how the menu evolves, and watching The Eatery shocks the pants off of everyone.

The Details:

The Eatery on Farwell

2014 N. Farwell Ave. 

Milwaukee, WI 53202

(414) 220-1110

Website with menu available here (Danger! The website is Flash-based, thusly is not iPhone friendly)

Iron Cupcake: Booze 10.17.10

Abandoning my Tee-totalling ways, I made the pilgrimage to the latest Milwaukee Iron Cupcake competition to cheer on our friend and yours, Mel from Bites of Life with her Absinthe cupcakes. While we were there, we had the pleasure of rubbing shoulders with Paul from Burp! (Lo, apparently, was under the weather. Feel better!), Neil, and a host of other Milwaukee food bloggers, as well as the royal Ruthie (of Dear Ruthie fame) as Mistress of Ceremonies. 

Well, I have absolutely no tolerance left, 'cause about six cupcakes in and I was already buzzed. Maybe it was the Absinthe...

There was a ton of gorgeous little cakes out there, and lots of awesome folks enjoying the Sunday afternoon... too bad it's the last Iron Cupcake of the year!

A few highlights below, but check out the gallery for the whole story!