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Sure, you know us as a suave, urbane arbiter of taste whose trenchant pensées on all things edible appear monthly in the magazine and more frequently here. All, though, isn’t apples and Armagnac croustade for a food writer. Truth is, a lot of our articles and ideas have been spiked faster and harder than the punch at a Stratton Oakmont office party. A lot. Here’s just a sample of the stuff we’ve tried to run past our editors—to no avail, just this past year.
We found a wildly popular new eatery that was perfect for an annual “Best New Restaurants” issue—or so we thought. Our editor wasn’t impressed.
Taco Bell, un poquito de Mexico in St. Charles County, debuts near the intersection of I-70 and Highway K, housed in an attractive Mission Style building conveniently near the off-ramp. The décor is minimalist, purportedly inspired by processing rooms for immigrants at INS offices along the Texas border. A number of regional specialties in this cheery, fast-paced eatery include burritos, tacos, and other fare familiar to fans of comestibles from our neighbor to the south. Others, such as the chili cheese chilito, appear to hail from lesser-known cuisines of Mexico. The kitchen here also indulges in some multi-cultural gastronomic whimsy, like the festive “Mexican pizza.” An array of carbonated libations is available; on those days when the syrup dispenser malfunctions, the Dr. Pepper makes for a cherry-infused digestif all by itself. Consider the drive-through for tacos al fresco, especially after local high school athletic events when crowds can be heavy. In fact, locals have given such an enthusiastic Ole! to this new eatery that there's talk of franchising the idea.
Then there was our idea for a Zoo fund-raiser, one punted not only by our editor but by the Zoo director as well:
To: Director, St. Louis Zoo: First, is “Director” the right title? Seems weird for the head of a zoo. Bwanna maybe? Anyway, writing to express my condolences on the imminent passing of one of your elephants. The fellow is aged and labile, reports the paper, and is soon to be put down. While we all mourn this loss, I wonder if something good might be made of it. How to put this delicately? Ever tasted elephant? Me neither. I’m betting a great many Zoo patrons haven’t either and would really like to. I think you see where this is going. Fundraiser? Barbeque? We’re talking enough ribs alone here to feed Monsanto’s entire executive board—or that of some other big contributor. We’ll need a couple of 55-gallon oil drums of sauce to be sure. But with what I figure is a dressed weight of three-quarters of a ton, nobody’s leaving hungry, am I right?
Oh, and the place we discovered and wanted to add to a “Best Restaurants” issue? Another piece that died a-borning:
Shäänghäi Snøøw:: Mention of Lapland’s Chinese Buddhist minority galvanizes one of two responses. The first is anger over the recent cruel but mercifully brief Tundra Reclamation Conflict. The second is, “huh?” The mouths of epicures, however, will begin watering at the thought of reindeer milk tofu! Locate this hot, just-opened eatery in distant North County and you’ll see why St. Louis is fortunate to be joining a select number of cities around the country enjoying the hippest new “in” dining experience: Lapphist cuisine. An extensive menu here has it all, from bright and bouncy lichen frisee stir-fried with oyster sauce, to mu shu salmon, to a presentation of sweet and sour Lapland duck that can actually make you believe Guangdong’s been relocated, lock, stock, and wok, to the Arctic Circle. It’s just slightly fermented birch sap and a dash of five-spice powder adding a piquant kick to the General Tso’s ptarmigan. Sadly, while U.S. embargoes on reindeer reproductive organs compromise the full flavor of this Lapphist classic, one taste of the Szechuan moose will have you longing for the permafrost—with no MSG!
Traditional friezes on the walls depicting Lapphist life during their native region’s justly celebrated nine-and-a-half-month twilight give this place a completely authentic feel. And while live weekend performances of Lapphist alternative techno-pop by local bands may be too intense for older diners, the young folks here are tapping their frost-nipped toes. Note: in accordance with Lapphist custom, children are not served after 4:15 on Thursdays and of course all redheads must eat facing away from communal tables. Small prices to pay for a taste of the very best of Finno-Ugric-Buddhist cuisine right here in St. Louis.Don’t miss dish:Sure, who doesn’t like lemmings? But you’ll find they’re even cuter—and delicious—stuffed in crispy egg rolls.
Want more proof of the genius on which our editors passed? How about this proposal for an article they inexplicably nixed?
Dear Editor: Probably like us, you assumed the local pre-teen set have their own little indie watering holes us fogies know nothing about. So you’ll probably be as surprised as we were in learning that in fact, a great many establishments here in St. Louis now actively ban youngsters from drinking. Great. Another cherished childhood memory vanishing like an errant stoopball down the sewer. So much for those long summer afternoons of yore spent creating the perfect sloe gin fizz. Or kicking back after a hard day at long division with a relaxing martini. Hey, what was being a kid if not inviting the gang up into the old backyard oak to spend an evening socializing over Tree Fort Tom Collins? What’s to replace that shot of Maker’s Mark in making the medicine go down? A spoonful of what? Sugar? Well, before it’s all gone like Lionel trains and Frogger, how about running a piece on St. Louis’ few remaining kid lounges?
You guessed it: spiked. Get the picture? For our editors, Mr. Creativity need not apply. Needless to say, you can imagine the fate or our proposed monthly column on the joys of organ meats, the one we wanted to title, “Chitlin’ Chat.”
