The Mac Daddy: Homemade Baked Mac 'n' Cheese

Nothing much to it, lovies!  You just need a handful of ingredients, and you too can make tasty pasta!

I made this for my sister's birthday, and everybody loved it!  (A success, I tell you!)

Basic Baked Mac:

Melt some butter in a saucepan.  When it begins to foam, add a quantity of flour equal to the amount of butter you added (1 tablespoon of butter to one tablespoon of flour, etc., based on how much sauce you're making).

Now whisk, whisk, whisk!  Don't let it burn!  The flour needs to cook out a little.  After a few minutes over medium heat, begin to whisk in some milk (nothing lower in fat than 2%. Skim milk screws this up).  Keep whisking!  Don't want any lumps in that béchamel.

Add in a dash of nutmeg (that flavor that'll make you wonder why it tastes so good) and a dash of dry mustard (it lends depth of flavor).

Now add in your cheese.  I may have erred in using a sharp aged cheddar.  Tasty, for sure, but it didn't melt nicely!  You really need a Gruyére or other melting cheese.  Whisk it in and check to see if you need salt.  Depends on the cheese you use.

Pour the sauce over your pasta (macaroni is good, cavatappi is better!  Part macaroni, part corkscrew pasta, all good when it comes to cheese sauces).  Mix well so every noodle has sauce on it, then pour it all into a greased casserole dish.  Top it off with a mix of sharp cheddar (a must in this case), grated parmesan (for nuttiness), and breadcrumbs (I like Italian-seasoned, but Panko works well too).

Pop the whole concoction into the oven at 375 F and let it bake away until the sauce is bubbling and the top is golden and crispy.  I made my macaroni in a 9"x9" glass casserole and popped it into the toaster oven.  Being that the top was close to the heating element, the topping crisped quickly, so I really can't tell you how long yours will take in a real oven.

Adjust the recipe to your taste, just like I always say (I like changing up the cheeses and adding meats like sausage or ham).

Bon Apetít!

~AF

C is for Cookies! Gamboling About in Lincoln Park with the Foodie

Ah, dearies, I've neglected you yet again.  And this evening I am loath to say that I will publish my final two posts from the comfort of my home.  Any posts from here on out will (more likely than not) be sent out from my...dorm room.  I know.  You don't want to hear about the cafeteria food.  And quite frankly, I don't want to tell you about it.

I'm not sure where this blog will go from here.  But I'll figure it out eventually.

For now, let's talk Lincoln Park and beyond!

It should be noted that restaurants along Lincoln Avenue aren't really open for lunch until eleven on weekdays.  It only makes sense.  But my parents and I got there early...and hungry.

After much walking and waffling (unfortunately an activity that had nothing whatsoever with waffles...) over where we should dine, we decided on a bar called Lincoln Station.  Not to be confused with Lincoln Hall.  That's just a hop, skip, and a jump away and is more of a late-evening music venue.

But anyway...It was eleven in the morning.  At a bar.  We were the first ones there, and remained the only ones there until shortly before we left.  There were multiple televisions there, broadcasting soccer, Sports Center, and various other athletic-themed programs...whatever's on at eleven in the morning.  I don't pay attention.  I like hockey, not football analyses.  The sound was off, so all we really had to entertain us was conversation.  Oh, drears...

I'm starting to make a habit of asking servers for meal recommendations.  And it was a good idea!  I had a Southern Spud.  Yes, darlings, a Spud.  As in a baked potato.  Stuffed with barbecued pulled pork, melted pepperjack cheese, and topped with creamy coleslaw.  With a pickle on the side.

When I read the item description, I realized this 'tater was not something I would ever have chosen as a lunch when left to my own devices.  I guess I just figured, 'Eh, why not?'

Allow me to be frank with you.  The potato was as big as my head.  As big as my head.  And buttered.  Stuffed.  Cheese-topped.  And coleslawed.  (Don't ask yourself if it's a word.  You're picking up what I'm laying down.)

I have to admit, I was hungry enough to mow through the slaw (crunchy enough for being scooped atop a hot potato, and a great contrast for the cheese and pork), most of the cheese (c'mon, it's cheese...of course I liked it!), and the delicious, saucy, tender pork (I would just order a bowl of that!).  The starchy meat-cheese-slaw vehicle (i.e. potato), on the other hand?  I hardly made a dent.  But it was all good!  Don't be turned away by the Spud.  But please consider sharing it with a friend.  Or running a marathon afterwards.  Your choice.

My mom got a burger named after Chicago's most famous public enemy, John Dillinger.  I should mention that the restaurant is located just across the street from the historic Biograph theater, site of Dillinger's death.  There's a restaurant called Dillinger's just down the street, but that'll probably be the topic for another post.  Back to the burger: Avocado, bacon, cheddar, griddled onions.  To put it simply, pretty gangster.  (I couldn't resist.)

And the french fries were tasty enough that, although I had a starch bomb the size of a Winnebago on my own plate, I kept snatching them and snacking on them.  They must've been good!

After a little jaunt 'round the neighborhood, we finally got to my dream destination, Cookie Bar!  Cue the dazzling lights and disco music!

Actually, the shop doesn't open until one in the afternoon.  It's down on Lincoln Avenue, in a shop the shape of a pie wedge (someone thought it'd be fun to run the street at a funny angle...).  The owners are theater guys, and the names of a few of their cookies reflect that.  They're so nice!  Much quieter than I thought they'd be...but that's okay.

The decor in the store is modern, yet really simple.  And at one in the afternoon, it is pretty darned quiet.  We were the only ones there.  Again.  I'm guessing the neighborhood really comes alive in the evening.  But who knows?

They were bold enough to call their store a bar, so of course you can get some shots while you're there.  But I'm not sure if you can choose between 2% or skim...That's right, they offer a shot of milk to go with your cookies.

And oh, the cookie's you'll find!  The day we went, there was a Nutella-chocolate chip cookie.  That's right.  You get chocolate with your chocolate-hazelnut spread.  Can I get a 'whoop, whoop?'  And there were some Cookie Bar standbys, like the Lisa Marie (peanut butter, banana, and peanut butter cups), the Sybil (split personality, half sugar cookie, half fudgy, cinnamon-y brownie), and some tasty oatmeal raisin cookies.

From left to right, chocolate-Nutella, oatmeal raisin, and more chocolate-Nutella. Oh yes they did.

I got the Sybil, because I just couldn't resist.  It was way better than it sounds.  And it sounds delicious!

Don't miss the cookies!  You'll regret it if you do.

Now, a final leg of our journey took us to Belmont Avenue, just down the road from Kuma's biker bar.  There's this little place that's been getting a little buzz.  And it's called Black Dog Gelato.

Yes, we got lunch and cookies and gelato.  I went to the gym.  Honest, I did.

At Black Dog they encourage you to sample!  Hallelujah!  I tasted a cinnamon-perfumed Mexican Hot Chocolate gelato, flavored with a kick of cayenne.  Delicious!  But I wanted to go for the shop's slam-dunk signature flavor.

Goat cheese.  Cashew.  Caramel.

No, they would not normally gel into something incredible.  But when you slap 'em together into a creamy Italian-style confection, they get along nicely.

The best way I can describe the undertones of this gelato is funky.  You know, that savory, sour, almost stinky flavor that makes a good cheese awesome.  And it's a flavor that makes a gelato fascinating.  Along with the sweet, flavorful caramel and the salty, rich cashews, this may be my ideal flavor.  But if you don't like goat cheese, please don't order this gelato.  Or at least taste it first, lest you do something irrational.

The cool thing about Black Dog is the fact that you can mix and match your gelatos (actually gelati, but who's keeping track?).  A small is two scoops, and those two scoops can be a combination of any pair of flavors you feel like!  Want watermelon sorbet and mint chocolatey chip?  They'll mix that.  Apple pie and malted vanilla?  Oh, yes.  Whatever you want.

In short, Black Dog is amazing.  Check it out, go crazy sampling stuff, and just pretend it has no calories.  When it tastes that good, who really cares?

Peace, Love, and Tasty Snacking!

~AF

For the Inimitable Julia, With Love, On Her 100th

Yes, I am eighteen.  But I understand the impact that the late great Julia Child has made on food and cooking in general in the U.S.  I watched her show after each Arthur show concluded, and I have to say, I loved her energy.

I think you'd be hard-pressed to find a food person who doesn't immediately think of Julia when anyone references the "Chicken Show" (a personal favorite of mine).  And I can't refer to Boef Bourguignon without exclaiming it in Julia's jubilant tone.  Not that I refer to it frequently...usually just when someone mentions Julia.

Things I remember about Julia are just brief snippets, segments from her PBS programs that I watched when I was six.  Learning to make bagels.  Eating avocados with Rick Bayless.  Donning a fireman's helmet and wielding a fire extinguisher at the prospect of good friend and co-host Jacques Pepin flambeing something (it may have been Crepes Suzette).  She had a real enthusiasm when in the kitchen, and it was obviously infectious.  No chef seemed to leave her kitchen without first having a thoroughly good time.

She taught people to get excited about food.  I'm not really sure if the episode with Rick Bayless was actually the first time she ate an avocado.  If it wasn't, she made it seem like it was, sharing her new discoveries about the food with her viewer and her guest.

She made people laugh.  I don't even know if she actually intended to.  Certainly, wearing a fire hat and preparing to extinguish Jacques's crepes was a planned moment of hilarity, and sitting various raw chickens cross-legged (cross-drumsticked?) couldn't have been planned without some chuckling among the production crew.  But her infectious passion led to a cooking show that not only pioneered in its field, but also made the viewers smile.  That voice?  When I hear Julia's name, that's all I can think of.

Julia was more than just a culinary and television pioneer.  She was a woman bold enough to enroll in a high-level class of all men at Le Cordon Bleu.  She made French food "cool," and started her whole culinary journey when she was in her thirties, not slowing down until she was in her eighties.

She was the reason I wanted omelets for breakfast when I stayed overnight at my aunt's house.  And her show is what opened the door for essentially every other cooking show that has aired on American television since.  Without her, there would be no "celebrity chef," no Food Network, and no real knowledge of French cuisine among purported foodies.

For these things I thank her.  She was a woman who took food very seriously, but could also find it in her to laugh at herself.  She never seemed to stop looking for new foods to fuel her passion for food.  And she, in a way, inspired me to love food, cooking, and cooking shows.

I know I cried when I found out she'd passed on.  It just never seemed possible that she could stop living, eating, and enjoying life.  But when you think about it, until her death, she never did.

Her birthday isn't over quite yet in my timezone.  I raise my glass to you, Julia.  You truly were, are, and always will be, the best.

Bon Appetit, Julia.  And Bon Anniversaire.

~AF.

Catching Up On a Cultural Phenomenon...Sort Of

Well, readers, I've done it.  I ate my first Big Mac today.  It bothered my stomach, by the way, so I won't rush to purchase another from the Golden Arches.  However, I did find it tasty in its own fast-foody sort of way.

I like the pickles (although I would have liked a couple more on my sandwich), and the Special Sauce was tasty.  Luckily for me, since I'm not crazy about raw onion, the onion portion of my burger didn't come through too strong.  And I love me a sesame seed bun!

But it was all just too much!  Two patties?  That awkward third sort-of-bun between the patties?  Enough saucy shredded iceberg to make the whole concoction slide around like a stack of CD's during an earthquake?  The fact that it cooled down alarmingly fast once I opened the box?  No, no, no, no... That just won't do.

Now, I think I'd like to be somewhat of a Fast-Foodie...and make my own version one of these days.  One patty, made of fresh 80/20 chuck, seasoned with salt, pepper, garlic powder, dried minced onion, and Worcestershire sauce, and grilled to perfection.  One bun, top and bottom (no awkward additional carbohydrate as architecture here, no, siree!).  A little bit of Vidalia onion, or maybe some thinly sliced shallot or scallion.  Good garlic dill pickles, and lots of them!  Snarlingly sharp cheddar cheese!  A more interesting lettuce than iceberg!  I just can't wait.

As for that special sauce?  My version will have a blend of high-fructose-corn-syrup-free ketchup (found at grocery stores, more tomatoey than its super-sweetened counterpart), yellow mustard, light mayonnaise, sweet pickle relish, black pepper, and a heavy dash of paprika.

Inspiration?  Yeah, I'm loving it, alright.  I'll report back when I finish my experiment.

Until then,

~AF

Antico Strikes Again! Hard-to-Twirl Noodles at My Fave Spot

Antico Posto is my ab-fab favorite way to start the weekend! (Can you tell by my jubilant punctuation?)  Nothing like carbs served with carbs served with garlic and olive oil!  And here we go...

Pappardelle with Fennel Sausage, Goat Cheese, and Tomatoes

My mom and I had the lunch special, Pappardelle with Fennel Sausage.  Fresh pasta in a tomato sauce, tossed together with crumbles of house-made Italian fennel sausage and topped with piquant fresh goat cheese and a pretty chiffonade of basil.  Can I get a "Whoop, whoop?"  As rich as goat cheese is, it actually felt like the one ingredient that lightened up the dish.  All the rich, earthy flavors--the tomatoes and the sausage--needed something sharp and acidic to perk them up.  The dish was so well-balanced in its flavor profile.  I took half home, but it's already gone.  I had it for dinner.

I love pappardelle.  However, that being said, pappardelle is very, very, very difficult to eat gracefully.  For those of you who don't know what pappardelle is, think fettucine...on steroids.  It's about halfway between a fettucine noodle and an un-ruffly lasagna noodle.  This is the sort of pasta that stands up well to something super meaty and hearty.  Thus, it was the perfect pasta pairing with the crumbled sausage.

But the size (nay, the girth!) of the noodles requires you to A) be able to do origami to fit an entire noodle into your mouth or B) cut your noodles into bite-size pieces.  Good luck trying to twirl these babies!  It will not work, especially with the thickness of the noodles at Antico.  Any thicker and they could be considered boiled flatbread; any thinner and they'd break when tossed with the sauce.

But from what I think could be considered an engineering standpoint (bear with me...I know it's a stretch), Antico's pappardelle are the perfect size.  And although it absolutely kills me to cut my pasta, it's worth it.  Especially since it keeps me from getting tomato sauce behind my ears.  That would not be classy.

Unfortunately, we skipped dessert today.  But next time, I shall have my Panna Cotta with brandied cherries.  It is so good.  But you knew that already.

Peace and Love From a Noodle-Cutting Classy Lady,

~AF

Apples, Brie, and Belly on a Burger...Why I Wasn't Quite Wowed

I never thought I would say this.  I tried pork belly today.  And it didn't impress me.  In fact, I didn't really like it.

I know!  It's so wrong.  But you need to understand a little something.  Well a lot of something.  Let me give you the back story.

A long time ago, in a land far, far away, a foodie felt like crying when she tried to eat her meal...

Hah!  I really had you going there for a moment didn't I?  To be honest, my pork belly experience wasn't all bad.  We were at one of my favorite local, suburban biker bars (yes, dearies, a biker bar), a place in Naperville called Jimmy's.  We'd just finished our crunchy, beer-battered onion rings (they're not listed on the menu anymore, for whatever reason...just ask for them. They are so good).

I looked at the menu, and for the first time, I saw a burger called the Marie Antoinette.  You have to understand, I've had burgers at Jimmy's before.  So many are awesome.  Sturdily built and bursting with flavor, each burger has to be served with a dagger in it to keep it from toppling over (by dagger, I mean a steak knife used like a toothpick.  Just as useful, only far more intimidating).  They used to have a bourbon burger with sauteed mushrooms.  Their Blue Horse is topped with horseradish, pungent bleu cheese, and onion straws.  And my dad ate their monthly special, a Guacamole Bacon burger with a real kick.

The Marie Antoinette, in all her glory, with fries and a pickle on the side.

But enough about that.  Back to my meal.  The Marie is comprised of a hefty beef burger, served on a hearty-yet-pillowy bun (one that won't break your teeth, but that also won't disintegrate when you put a sopping, freshly-made burger on it) and topped with rich, buttery brie cheese (love!), incredibly flavorful caramelized apple slices (delightful!), and...mushy pork belly (wah-wah).

Maybe my lack of pork belly experience led to my dislike, but from what I understand, a good belly preparation renders out the copious amounts of fat that the cut of meat contains, and leaves the slab with a delectable seared crust on the outside. 

The belly on the Marie (I've just realized how strange that sounds...but bear with me) was cut like thick-cut bacon.  It was fatty...like, really fatty; you could probably take a butter knife and spread it across the bun like mayonnaise.  There may have been a little sear around the perimeter of the meat at one time, but being sandwiched between a hot, juicy burger and moist, buttery brie likely zapped any crust that the pork had.  What little meat I could dig out from amongst the fat (it really felt like spelunking. No joke) was soft and lovely, but the need to dig so much just made it a little disappointing.

I wanted my pork belly crisp!  I wanted it seared!  Maybe I really just wanted bacon instead...when you think about it, that's really all pork belly is.  Bacon is smoked, cured pork belly.  They are just about  one and the same.  And bacon would add a textural element that the burger was just dying for.  Soft apples, soft cheese, soft burger, soft pork...see anything missing?  I need crunch!  Don't deny me that, Jimmy!

A pork belly confit seared in a hot pan until golden and glorious might be a little much to ask for a biker burger bar.  But in my defense, they're the ones who decided to tackle the fancy-schmancy food.  And they didn't do too bad.  The only thing that went downhill on this burger was the meat garnish.  I know for next time to ask for a little meat candy (that being bacon...get with it, kids!) instead of the belly.

Maybe someday I'll embrace the pork belly...just not today, and not soggy on a burger.  I do not like it, Sam I Am.

~AF

Pasta Salad and Mini Meatloaves: Just Another Foodie Saturday

Readers!  The Foodie has the materials she needs to make amazing food!  We got eggs, and ground beef, and orzo pasta, and...okay, I'll calm down.

But seriously.  Having ingredients to cook with makes a huge difference in the Amateur Foodie kitchen. 

Lunch today was another Greek-inspired dish, this time an orzo salad.  I prepped a vinaigrette dressing with red wine vinegar, minced garlic, olive oil, salt, and pepper, plus a dash of dried oregano.  The oh-so-essential accoutrements portion of the dish included sliced pepperoncini that I chopped up even smaller (leave them as-is and they take over the whole dish!), quartered black olives (nothing special...I would've liked some nice vinegary Kalamata olives, but I worked with what we had), meticulously chopped cherry tomatoes (lose the seeds and the jelly-like medium they're suspended in, and you lose a great emulsifying agent! Plus, you don't want to crush those little babies), cucumber diced up teeny-tiny (seeds removed, of course), and feta cheese.

My best piece of advice is to put the hot pasta into the dressing and toss.  This keeps the starches in the orzo from making your pretty salad into a bowl of pasta clumps and veggies.  Then chill, baby, chill!  You cannot.  I repeat, you cannot put crisp, delicious fresh veggies into hot pasta and expect them to remain crisp and delicious.  Think I'm wrong?  Try it.  Be disappointed.  But don't say I didn't warn you.

Unfortunately, there is no photo of the pasta.  Put it this way, I didn't make a lot of it, and my mom and I really liked it.  Really.

Our second topic of discussion this evening is meatloaf.  Calm yourselves!  I call myself a foodie, yet I'm preparing stuff like meatloaf?  Yes.  Yes I am.

Because, truth be told, sometimes I just crave meatloaf.  It was never something we had on a regular basis, so I never got tired of it, and I never ate enough bad meatloaf to get on the bandwagon with the people who hate it.

Meatloaf can be really delicious if you have fresh ingredients and a good recipe.  Still too un-foodie-like for you?  Well, get ready.  I'm about to tell you what's up.

Mashed potatoes and a gloriously glazed mini meatloaf.  Notice the elegant white plate?  Mmhmm.  Fancy.

Mini.  Meatloaf.  Muffins.  Heck yes.  Something about making a big ol' meatloaf in a little muffin tin turns it into the most twee, foodie-like thing ever.  Yes, twee.  Cutesy.  Like Zooey Deschanel's outfits.  Or kittens with bows around their necks.  Meatloaf's never looked tastier.

Pick your favorite meatloaf recipe (if you don't have one already, find one, for crying out loud!).  Make it as you normally would, and divide the meat into lightly greased muffin tins (use cooking spray or olive oil...not butter and flour).  Cooking times can be dicey, so keep an eye on your mini loaves.

In my opinion, an important aspect of foodie-ness is an ability to adapt a recipe.  To make it better, obviously.  So here are some changes I made to my standard-issue meatloaf recipe (from that plaid cookbook that pretty much everybody owns).

• Sauteed onions:  The recipe just says to add a quarter cup of chopped onion, raw (raw?!?) to the meat mixture.  From past experience, the onion just ends up with a weird consistency.  It's not done enough for me, so before I assembled the mix, I sauteed my onion in some canola oil over low heat until it was slightly golden (and certainly no longer raw.  Nothing ruins a velvety, soft meatloaf like biting into a big chunk of onion).  Be sure to cool it thoroughly before adding it to the meat!
• Italian breadcrumbs:  The recipe calls for plain, dry breadcrumbs.  We only had panko or Italian-seasoned, and the last time I used panko in a meatloaf recipe, it was just strange.  Italian crumbs it was, then.  And, might I add, they were delicious.  That little bit of herbage offers another dimension of flavor that does just enough to help the meatloaf without being overpowering.
• Muffin tins!  There are no instructions for making meatloaf muffins in my cookbook.  Quite the oversight, I think.  The cook time for a free-form 9-inch diameter patty was 50 minutes at 350 Fahrenheit.  So I cooked the muffins for 30 minutes at 350.  Then I unmolded them.  Then they went back in for ten minutes.  Then, since my mother wasn't home yet, they went into the fridge.  Just before serving, I heated them at 350 for ten minutes without glaze, plus another ten with glaze.  You may need to play around with your cook time.  Less is more, unless your beef is still bloody in the middle.  Please don't get sick.
• Gooey glaze:  The recipe said ketchup, brown sugar, and dry mustard!  I didn't listen!  I skipped the dry mustard, adding a squish of Dijon instead.  I used uber-molasses-y dark brown sugar in lieu of the more traditional light brown.  And I added a healthy shot of Worcestershire sauce.  (I can't eat a beef dish that doesn't contain Worcestershire.  Don't ask why.  It's just good.)  And it was the best meatloaf glaze I've ever had.  It was like candy.  Only with Worcestershire sauce.

I served my mini meatloaf muffins with sour-cream-and-garlic mashed russet potatoes.  I steeped rosemary in the cooking water, and poached a garlic clove with the potatoes.  Not only did poaching make the garlic super easy to peel, it mellowed the flavor and made it easy to smash it into a paste (which mixed oh-so-nicely with my 'taters).  Tasty?  Indeed.

Embrace the Meatloaf!

~AF

No-Frills Java in Long Grove

I cannot tell a lie.  I like a grande Macchiato with skim milk on occasion.  Me and Starbucks?  We're pretty cool with each other.  I buy its beverages, it gives me a caffeine boost.  But once in a while, a change is nice.

Was coffee cool before Starbucks?  I mean, how did people take their caffeinated beverages before they could get a Venti double-shot, no-whip frappa-cappa-thingy?  Just coffee?  Just espresso?  Bah!  As if.

Believe it or not, there was a time before "good coffee" and "$5 coffee" were synonymous.  And the baristas weren't called baristas.  And everyone lived happily.

Places like Beans & Leaves in Long Grove, Illinois, are growing more and more rare.  All we wanted was a cold drink.  The tavern down the street was out as an option (none of us felt like purchasing a brew), and Long Grove tends to discourage the intrusion of the chain restaurant (or coffee shop, or anything for that matter), so there was no Starbucks to patronize (no Starbucks?  Oh, the humanity!).

Quite frankly, we stumbled upon Beans & Leaves after learning (much to our disappointment) that long-time Long Grove business Apple Haus was out of business (and, as such, we were unable to enjoy some cold cider and donuts).

It seemed like we stood there, looking around aimlessly, for an age before we spotted the coffee shop.  We later learned that it's been in business for eight years.  It's a little tough to see, nestled in between the Long Grove Popcorn Shoppe and what will soon be the former Red Oak Furniture Gallery.

We walked in to find a shop that was essentially silent, and empty.  The barista, if you will (she is not a barista, by the way.  Just thought I'd put it in language that people could understand), was straightening up some of the coffee shop kitsch that makes this place way more fun to be in than a Starbucks.

The "Tea Room" at Beans & Leaves in Long Grove, IL.

A row of local musicians' photos adorns the front wall of the shop, and an acoustic guitar in the designated "Tea Room" bears the signatures of many, likely people who have played their coffeehouse gigs at Beans & Leaves.  There are innumerable tin signs on and around the counter, with coffee-related phrases, beckoning, imploring the errant visitor to sit down and have a cup.

Ordering is casual.  No frenetic java-shop shorthand here.  If you would like a medium-sized latte with skim milk, then you say it.  To quote the nice lady who made me my drink, "This is not Starbucks.  Don't talk to me in Starbucks lingo."  For the record, I didn't.  This was part of a conversation we were having long after we received our lattes.  I digress.

My iced latte (front), and my sister's Arnold Palmer (back).

When you order, your coffee is made in front of you.  The espresso for my iced latte was brewed before my eyes and dumped into a cup of ice and milk (skim or 2%), then the lid was put on and it was handed to me.  And then I paid.  And then I relaxed.

There are no couches, no bar stools.  Just some rickety-looking tables and metal-framed chairs like you'd find in an old ice cream shop.  There are store-copy books to peruse while you sip, titles by Isaac Asimov, Michael Crichton, and James A. Michener.


It was quiet when we went there.  We were the only ones in the shop for most of the time we were there.  This presented us with an opportunity rarely encountered at a chain coffee shop.  We had a conversation with the person that served us coffee.  Shocking, I know, but it turns out the people that work at little shops like this can be far more personable (and far less preoccupied) than those at the chains.  And we learned an awful lot.

As it turns out, the store in which Beans & Leaves is situated was the site of the first Gloria Jean's coffee shop.  It had been one coffee shop or another for about 30 years, and it had been Beans & Leaves for the past eight.

The coffee is no-nonsense.  The atmosphere is no-frills.  And the two-dollar cookies are actually worth the two dollars you pay for them (I'd recommend the oatmeal butterscotch).  And though the coffee isn't too much less expensive than its chain-coffee counterparts, it's worth every cent to me if it means supporting a small business in a town where far too many small businesses are being forced to close.

In the words of our personable coffeemaker, "Come here, I'll make you a decent cup of coffee."

Decent is being modest.

~AF