Posted by: dionnamarie | December 14, 2009

Cosmo’s Cucina – Kalamazoo, MI

Off to breakfast again, you say? Well…yes…greasy goodness for our tummies is just too fun to pass up on a Sunday morning.  This time, we ventured over to Cosmo’s Cucina, a quaint little spot smack dab in the middle of the Vine Neighborhood in Kalamazoo. This great restaurant is located upstairs from O’Duffy’s Pub (operated by the same owners). Cosmo’s has an awesome patio that is perfect for those lazy spring mornings when you wish you were in Europe instead of Southwest Michigan….at least I can pretend, right?

Well, in the winter time, you can enjoy your breakie in the warmth, surrounded by brick-faced walls adorned with rotating art…very eclectic. Steve and I sat down and were promptly offered beverages by our server. I was sort of distracted by the Alvin and the Chipmunks Christmas song that was blaring in the background, however. Our server mentioned that the music was in dire need of changing. Clearly!  This place better resembles “morning jazz like smooth whiskey” not “morning irritation like a crumb in my eye.”  Alvin and his compadres were quickly removed from the rotation – thank goodness!

The hardwood floors creaked below our feet as the servers promptly ran around delivering happy plates of goodies to everyone. Steve and I peered into our menus and downed several cups of scrumptious coffee before selecting some vittles. “I’d like your potatoes and veggies without the cheese please…and a side of dry rye toast – and can you make that dish vegan as well,” I said.  “It’s vegan, but you don’t want cheese?”…..”Uh…no,” hence vegan.  Why do people always freak out when you don’t want cheese food on your plate? Seriously…you’d think the world was going to end.  Steve ordered the Mexican Omelet which comes with onions, tomato, avocado, green peppers, cheese and a side of toast.

As we waited, we happily chatted and giggled about the nutcracker who was watching over our table. He seemed eerily interested in our conversation, as well as guarding the jelly packets on the table. It’s good to give inanimate objects jobs every once in a while…you know?

After a quick spell, our food arrived. The portion on Steve’s plate could have fed a small family. It was loaded with all sorts of veggies and topped with gobs of cheese. I, on the other hand, ended up with a bowl of potatoes with bits of green pepper mixed in….and when I say bits, I mean that they looked like they were once dehydrated. How disappointing!  I didn’t realize that the “veggies” in “potatoes and veggies” meant reconstituted bits of crappy peppers. Oh well – “Can I have some hot sauce please,” I said.  There’s nothing like saucing up a bowl of starch with tons of fire. Our server brought over this sad bottle of hot sauce that looked as if it hadn’t been used in a few years.  I began to pour gobs of it onto my plate (even though I was unsure about the heat). Turns out this crap wasn’t hot sauce at all; rather, it was a jar of vinegar with a slight hint of pepper. Sheesh!

Steve happily chewed on his fluffy omelet and exclaimed how delicious it was…full of tasty avocados and topped with salsa and sour cream. Although I was disappointed with my lack of veggies and un-hot, hot sauce, I still carried on…I was hungry after all and I had tossed back about four cups of coffee already.  Food was sort of a must at this point.

The morning was absolutely delightful, and as our bellies let us know that we shouldn’t put one more bite in….we did just that.  Despite minor displeasure with my vegan potatoes, we had a wonderful time and the atmosphere and service were fantastic…all with a cheap tab to boot.

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Posted by: dionnamarie | December 14, 2009

Logan’s Roadhouse – Portage, MI

Nothing quite goes with Christmas shopping like a few beers in the old belly. Unfortunately, the land we ventured to for shopping only had chain restaurants…definitely not the type of joints we typically frequent; however, the beer was calling. The oddity is that not only did we end up in a chain restaurant, but we also ended up in a steak house of all places. Not quite the eatery you’d expect to find a vegan in, eh?

Steve and I slowly tipped our way into Logan’s Roadhouse to belly up to the bar and grab a pint or two. This is one of those strange country-type eateries where they toss peanut hulls on the ground. There’s nothing like being a genuine slob while out in public, right? Crunch crunch crunch…as we walked through the door-way…..weird.

Steve and I sat at the bar and anxiously awaited for the ‘tender to offer us a cold one. While we giggled about the irony of being in a steakhouse, we spoke intellectually about the desire to throw our peanut shells on the floor. “It’s sort of strange, isn’t it?” I said. Steve agreed and then began to collect a small pile of nut covers on the bar in front of him.  “You can’t do it, can you?” “No,” he replied. I suddenly felt the urge to be completely unruly and threw a few shells on the ground.  It’s not like it felt good or anything…the little rebel inside me despised the fact that this was considered normal behavior.

As we played with the bucket of peanuts, the bartender came over and said, “I’ll be right with you guys, okay?” As if we had a say in the matter. “No…really…it’s not okay. We’ve been waiting for ten minutes already and these peanuts are stale!”  Oh…if I only had the courage to be that vocal. Steve and I began to look around and realized that Mr. Bartender himself was running the entire show at Logan’s.  The poor thing had to fill up the peanut troughs, deliver dinners, take drink orders and run the cash register.  I still wasn’t feeling bad for him quite yet though…mainly because my mouth had been completely sucked dry of all saliva from those damn peanuts. “Beer please!”

After another five minutes or so, we were finally asked what sort of beverages we would like to consume. As soon as they were delivered, I said “We’ll take our tab too.”  We certainly couldn’t wait around another hour just to get the check. On our way out, we shuffled our feet like little kids across the peanut-laden floor. Needless to say, we won’t be returning to this laid-back disaster of a joint.

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Posted by: dionnamarie | December 2, 2009

The Wine Loft – Kalamazoo, MI

Our next stop takes us out for a night of imbibing. We traveled to The Wine Loft in downtown Kalamazoo to gallivant with a large group of friends. Our first visit to this most interesting place left us with a bad taste in our mouths…not because of crappy wine either. When the facility first opened, we stopped in on a Friday night, and while the joint was quite eclectic, it was filled with scantily clad women and men whose muscles were popping from their shirts. The background music was a sort of bumpin’ mix that might appeal to the “I just got out of college and got a real job” crowd.

Now, mind my initial criticisms, that’s just what you might encounter on a weekend…and hey…if that’s your gig, more power to you – enjoy!  While our friends can hang with a crowd like that, we’d much rather sit in an atmosphere where yelling isn’t a requirement for communication. When we visited the Wine Loft on this occasion, it was a Tuesday evening – also half off bottles of wine night – yippie! One of our friends reserved the loft area (yes…the Wine Loft has an “actual” loft). This was our first time upstairs in the fun lofty area and it was just delightful. We sat by the faux Yule logs burning on the television behind us – you could even feel the warmth…oh wait…maybe that was the wine.

At any rate, while we were lounging on the large square couches, our very friendly server popped up the stairs and handed us a fairly vast wine list. While looking over the list, I was pretty excited…you know….half off.  My disappointment came when I realized that the majority of the bottles were over $40 and most of them were above $65 and all the way up to $200. Now, I’m no wine connoisseur, but I certainly know what my little taste buds desire; however, I still can’t bring myself to believe that the more expensive it is, the better it must taste.

Steve and I finally settled on a Pinot Grigio from California – original price $28 a bottle, so we escaped with a $14 trough of wine.  Now, one would expect that a wine at that price would be moderately elegant, right? Hmmmmm….well, I don’t know how you feel about screw-top wines, but all cheapness was revealed when our server returned with our wine and forcefully unscrewed the aluminum top.  Obviously there was no cork for me to smell – what the hell kind of wine place is this anyway?  “Ummm, can I smell the cap please?” How classy!  Our faux sommelier did the correct thing and poured a taste for me.  I still wonder what would happen if I said “This is disgusting, take it back!” – are you allowed to do that?!?  I’ll have to try on our next adventure out.  The wine wasn’t too bad; however, my friend tried it and said that it tasted “like a cup of water.”  I suppose that’s what a $28 screw-top bottle is like these days.

As more friends arrived to the gathering, the loft was expanding like a stuffed belly. The server came over to take drink orders from the new arrivals. “Tonight is half-off bottle of wine night,” she said…with one caveat, “that’s for everything under $100.” HEY!  They never told US that!  What if I got crazy and ordered that $200 bottle of elitist Sicilian wine?

Even though we just went for the drinks, we did peer into their menu to see if there was anything delightful to snack on. The Wine Loft has delectable sounding dishes (mind you, none are vegan, so if you are a vegan, make sure you stuff your face with some crackers before arriving). Wine and empty bellies are a bad mix.  The menu had everything from Baked Brie to Wild Mushroom Bruschetta to Shrimp Ceviche – they even have an option to select three cheeses of your liking to make your own snack platter – so sophisticated!  Even though I’m a non-cheese eater, I can appreciate the ala carte element of ordering this dish.

As the Yule log began to burn out and the loft tired of our presence, we slowly parted down the stairs…off to the next adventure. We would most certainly return to the loft….but only on Tuesdays.

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Posted by: dionnamarie | November 23, 2009

Food Dance – Kalamazoo, Michigan

After last weekend’s breakfast debacle, Steve and I were both excited to jaunt over to Food Dance in downtown Kalamazoo.  This adorable little place has giant-sized veggies plastered all over the walls and it sort of feels like the building-sized asparagus are watching over you while you’re there. We were elated about having breakfast and couldn’t wait to sit down and mull over the menu.

We ran into some good friends prior to being seated and had a brief chat. Our friends have a small child and prior to being seated, the hostess said, “Does he take crayons and paper?” Sort of as if she were asking a two-year old, “Do you take whiskey in your oatmeal?” I imagined the little tyke taking a pull right from the Jack Daniel’s bottle, “No crayons lady…what kind of kid do you think I am?”

After a short wait, we were seated and a smiling server came right over to take our drink order. “Two coffees, please.” Steve and I both needed this liquid more than you can imagine.  The aroma was taunting us as we waited for our cups to arrive. After the first taste, Steve said, “This is the best coffee I’ve ever had here,” as if they were brewing some fantastically-flavored caffeinated madness that we had never experienced before. As our bellies were warming with the liquefied peaberry juice, Steve expressed excitement over the specials. “Oregon hash…yum,” he exclaimed. After giving me a lesson in the proper pronunciation of Oregon..,”That’s Or-uh-gun….not Or-uh-gone,” we proceeded to order our food.

I asked the server if the restaurant could make their home fries (potatoes and veggies) vegan-style. He said, “Absolutely!” This was very exciting for me, as I am typically relegated to ordering fruit and toast and that bores my soul to tears.

 After less than ten minutes, our food was placed before us and looked simply delicious. I think the giant asparagus on the walls even cracked a smile. We decided to take photos to share with all when another server, whom we know, stopped over and said, “I couldn’t help but notice that you took a photo of your home fries.  I hope that’s not because something is wrong with them.” Steve and I giggled and were delighted in the fact that someone recognized what we were doing and expressed concern that the food might be bad. If only this happened at every restaurant.  

The food was simply delightful. Steve’s Ore-uh-gun hash had two sunny-side up eggs, potatoes, red peppers and salmon all mixed together, and my home fries consisted of an abundance of potatoes, green onions, squash and peppers. I, having a major affinity for hot sauce, proceeded to pour on copious amounts of delicious hot goodness that is made only a few-hundred miles away, in Ann Arbor, MI. This is another brilliant element of Food Dance’s mission – use as many local products as possible.

Steve devoured his breakfast, only before saying, “Sometimes eating fish reminds me of camping.” It must have been that Or-uh-gun thing…or possibly he shared some whisky with the non-crayon-taking two-year old.

 After practically drinking the entire bottle of hot sauce and stuffing my bell with gobs of expanding potatoes, I could eat no more. I asked our server for a to-go box and was pleasantly surprised to have received a recycled cardboard box. “What, no Styrofoam? – Can this place get any better?”

With happy tummies and leftovers in tow, we skipped out of Food Dance giggling. I’m pretty sure I saw the asparagus wink at us on our way out.

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Posted by: dionnamarie | November 22, 2009

A Food Affair – Augusta, Michigan

A quaint little joint in Augusta, Michigan (seriously the quietest town on the planet). We’re not really sure what the focal point is here (the agriculture, one of the best theaters on the west side of the state or just really nice people)…but that’s not what we came here for. Indeed, we’re here for the food! We were drawn to little Augusta to have an intimate affair with some food. Well, not really…work with us here.

A Food Affair, located in the heart of the city,  promises all sorts of yummies  made with as many local ingredients as they can fetch.  Not a difficult feat in Michigan, but definitely an admirable one. While their dinner menu is full of variety and includes dishes from home-style comfort foods to elegant vegetarian options, the breakfast menu is a bit scarce (as if we were the vultures that flew in a too late for the real feast). While we’re not the type to jump in the gas wagon and drive twenty minutes for breakfast, we respected the mission of this adorable-sounding café and thought that the local goodness made the trek worthwhile.

There were several vegetarian options, none vegan (mind the English muffin), but besides that, the selections were few. Still, we held the little shop in high regard because of the owner’s respect for local goods. Admittedly, we were quite hung over after a night of celebrating life, so a happy breakie was much needed and our bellies bounced around inside us as if we had taken them to the carnival.  But after thirty minutes of waiting for the bountiful plates to arrive, our organs sent out the hunger pangs in the hopes of retrieving something edible from us…the coffee mugs…maybe the napkins…who knows.  We still sat there with a minor amount of hope on our faces and chuckled at the clever artwork on the walls – a pot of boiling water with veggies sitting in it as if they were in Jacuzzi, jalapeños dancing with tortillas around their waists and bananas playing in a paper bag.

Still…our tummies were starting to get grumpy about the now empty promise of abundant goodies.  The coffee had run dry and lone waitress was pounding away at an ice block that had formed in the soda machine. Thud thud thud! “Where the hell are we?” I moaned, with my belly cheering on. “What could possibly be taking so long?” After all, being a vegan, I opted for the cup of fruit and an English muffin. Although when ordering my meal, the waitress did look at me as if she thought I couldn’t possibly survive on such morsels.  Apparently in Augusta, mass amounts of food are required to sustain the human body.

Steve was beginning to look weak (i.e. the hangover had really started to punch around in his brain). Forty-five agonizing minutes later (even the dancing jalapeños had become weary) we finally received our food. While Steve’s omelet looked fresh and pretty, the accompanying corn muffins were a sad bunch. Each time he bit into them, I was showered with crusty crumbs, as if he had become a wood-chipper  and I was being battered by the debris. We moved passed the awkwardness and I proceeded to prod at my cup of rotten fruit. Hmmm…possibly the Michigan farmers neglected to pick their fruit when it was ripe? This was seriously not what I expected and sort of ruined the whole “local” theme for me. We’re all smart enough to know that fruit doesn’t need to travel 1500 miles to be fresh, right? Ummm…yes.

So, I moved onto the under-toasted English muffin (again..this is a piece of bread that took 45 minutes to arrive). I asked for jam to juice up the toast a bit, and mind you, jam is one of my favorite delights for breakfast. The waitress tossed two small packets of Smuckers grape jelly on the table. “Yucko” I belted out. I can’t stand grape jelly and why isn’t this place making homemade jam with the rotten fruit they have? Sort of a big disappointment considering this place touts local, homemade treats.

While I continued to chew on the doughy madness, my own hangover started to bark inside….”Unhappy!” it screamed. I didn’t care anymore…all of the customers seemed a bit perturbed. The lone waitress ran back and forth from serving one customer to loudly chopping away at the ice block, to microwaving something that none of us could see…all while our coffee cups screamed for liquid like fish out of water. After Steve had successfully managed to consume what he called “an okay omelet” we scrambled to remove ourselves from poor little Augusta. The server apologized to us for the long delay, but we surely couldn’t understand it. There were only a handful of customers….possibly A Food Affair can only handle one mistress at a time.

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