Smitten Kitchen Cakes

My first SmittenKitchen baking attempt was a disaster; I thought Irish Car Bomb Cupcakes would be perfect for St Patrick’s Day, considering my love of Jameson, Bailey’s, and stout beer, but my attempt ended up severely stuck the silicone (i.e. notoriously non stick) cups.  However, I was determined to enjoy some of the delicious cakes I’ve seen since I started reading her site.  My second recipe was chosen by my husband for his birthday in August (although I ended up making the cake a few weeks later).  Thankfully he chose a single layer affair without any fancy decorations.  The results were delightful and sentimental (it tasted so much like a torte from the old, but now defunct, Old Europe that I used to eat on our early dates).  This cake was easy, but it tasted like a professional effort.  It is definitely one of my favorite cakes for both its appearance and taste.

For our third legal anniversary, we pondered and agonized over several delectable cakes, and we ended up with the Chocolate Peanut Butter Cake.  The original recipe is for a three layer cake, but I only have two round pans so I made two layers and some cupcakes.  Although I tried to eyeball it, the batter distribution between the pans wasn’t equal which resulted in one layer being much thicker than the other.  I did not overfill the cupcake tins, but the silicone cups were not again not as non stick as I thought they should be when I purchased them.  I also tweaked the recipe a bit: unsweetened not too smooth peanut butter (in lieu of smooth commercial peanut butter) and an entire cup less of confectioner’s sugar for the frosting (next time I will probably knock it back an additional cup).  Deb at SmittenKitchen provides a page of layer cake tips as well as advice with each recipe that have really helped me make better looking cakes.

Ophelia’s World Cafe

Although I’ve seen the ad in the paper and over at Ashvegas, I somehow still managed to forget about the free Just Because Your Asheville concert.  So rather than promptly do the grocery shopping after yoga, I decided to eat lunch at Ophelia’s World Cafe on Eagle Street so I could catch Larry Keel.  This location used to be Bearly Edible, which also does a great festival stand with $1 grilled cheese and the pricier (but still cheap and greasy and good) pesto mozzadillas.  Even though Ophelia’s google listing still references BE, my server informed me they were most certainly no longer affiliated.  Everything on the menu seemed simple to prepare like food one might expect from a food stand, and the lunch menu was a scant page.  I decided on the roasted eggplant quesadilla and tempeh with a side salad over the either of Middle Eastern plates (both with hummus, baba gangouj, and tablouleh with pita and crudites and the more expensive one offering falafel as well).  My salad was a yummy little spring mix with carrots, onion, and raw peppers (green and red) then lightly dressed with their shallot vinaigrette, and my quesadilla was filled with chunks of tempeh, tiny cubes of eggplant, cooked onions and peppers, fresh mozzarella, and pesto in a plain flour shell.  The beer list is good for a small restaurant by most standards, but by Asheville standards it is weak.  The list was fifteen or so deep and consisted of three Abitas, two Sierra Nevadas, two pumpkin beers, and three”local” beers in Gaelic, Cottonwood Pumpkin (of which they were out), and Duck Rabbit Milk Stout.  I thought they had draft beer, but the menu doesn’t denote bottle or draft.  After my initial annoyance at being told to sit wherever then being moved twice, the service was good.  I ate late in the afternoon, being the second to last table before they closed for the dinner shift , and my server neither hovered or ignored me.  I was also impressed with their toilet; it has a button for half flush or full flush.

Sunday at The Slanted Door

Our Sunday was a could’ve, should’ve day.  First we slept in a bit later than we should’ve, second we could’ve gotten bagels for breakfast the night before.  We strolled down to Union Square to catch a bus to the Fisherman’s Wharf where we going to rent bikes to ride through the Presidio and across the Golden Gate Bridge down into Sausalito to enjoy a mid afternoon lunch and catch the ferry back; however, it was my lack of food and general bitchiness that threw a wrench into our plans this time.  I think I was worried about whether my out of shape body would be able to bike the few miles.  So instead we walked down the Embarcadero in the blazing sun and against the flow of pedestrian traffic away from the gapping tourist trap of Fisherman’s Wharf.  At the Ferry Building, things suddenly looked much brighter (figuratively as I don’t think it could’ve gotten much brighter literally).

The Slanted Door beckoned our empty bellies, but the thirty minute wait directed us to the bar.  I began with a kir royale to quench my thirst, and my husband went with an unfamiliar wheat beer.  Our seat at the bar was directly in front of the raw prep station so we both ordered a half dozen raw oysters; I opted for West Coast options which were all quite delicious, and my husband ordered the plate as is and also enjoyed it thoroughly.  With our fortune at the raw bar, we decided to share a live scallop; it was absolutely heavenly with its fresh creamy saltiness.  If I could regularly eat raw animal this tasty, I would never dream of giving up flesh.  Following with the Bay Area obsession, my next drink was Summer on the Danube which consisted of sparkling wine and elderberry liqueur; I do now love elderberry liqueur.  For my next dish I moved to the hot side and ordered the bánh xèo (Vietnamese egg crepe); the food runner was kind enough to tell me how it is normally eaten as I most likely would’ve skipped the leaf lettuce completely which would have greatly taken away from the dish.  The crepe is sliced then wrapped in the leaf lettuce then dipped in the sauce then eaten.  All of the flavors came together to make this dish my favorite from the trip, from the slight bitterness of the lettuce to the earthiness of the mung bean sprouts to the clean crispness of the mint and basil leaves to the sweet, spicy ginger of the dipping sauce to the greasiness of the cooked crispy egg.  I have not stopped craving this, even after I attempted to make a vegan alternative that was less than awesome.  The ginger pushed me into a dark and stormy, which is a drink that has sentimental value; I first enjoyed it the week before we married in Key West, and this trip to our friends’ wedding doubled as a big three (legal) years anniversary celebration for us (albeit a couple of weeks before the actual date).  This version is the epitome of a dark and stormy.  Their house made ginger syrup is the secret; it has such a powerful ginger punch that cuts through and combines with the sweetness of the dark rum and the soda to make bliss in a cup.  After the dark and stormy and the egg crepe, my tofu entree was good, but I really only remember the exotic sweetness of the lemongrass.  Our service was slow with many long moments of trying to get our bartender/server’s attention to order the next drink or dish or get the check; however, the food was wonderful.

We slowly strolled out of the Ferry Building into the bright sunshine and decided since we were in the Financial District we might as well hit the SFMoMA.  Much like the MoMA, the SFMoMA was overwhelming at times.  I enjoyed many of the pieces, but others annoyed me.  One piece was a short Airstream style travel trailer; another was a colorful painting that I initially liked, so I read the placard for it to discover the protrusion was a piece of elephant dung.  The photography exhibits were the highlight and made the admission (twenty dollars including the five dollar surcharge for the Richard Avedon exhibit) worth it.  Unlike many museums, the SFMoMA allows non flash photography.

Exhausted from all the walking and alcohol, we walked through the Yerba Buena Gardens but decided to skip through it.  We caught the F line back to the Embarcadero so I could check out the Diego Rivera murals in the Rincon Center (another example of us backtracking).  We then rode the California car up to Nob Hill so we could see the Fountain of the Turtles and Grace Cathedral.  The cathedral was amazing and humbling; I respect churches that spend all their money on doing good works, but I love and cherish the magnificent buildings that religious congregations build.  I took photos of the doors called The Gates of Paradise, but I felt disrespectful taking photos of the interior.

After the cathedral, we returned to the apartment for a refreshing 7 and ginger and showers.  For dinner we decided that nothing could possibly top our lunch plus we were reeling from the cost; Uncle Vito’s on Powell St seemed like a good place for cheap eats.  Cheap they were, but even so the service and food left much to be desired.  The service I can forgive, because it was cheap.  The food, however, was bland, boring, and not even worth repeating.  If ever in San Francisco, avoid Uncle Vito’s.

Chinatown and Top of the Mark

On Wednesday, my honey dubbed me Drill Sergeant because I was determined to take in as much of the city as we could during our week stay (with days eaten by travel, wedding events, and weather) so before we had to get ready for the 40 minute BART ride to Pleasant Hill, we checked out Union Square and Chinatown.  My favorite part about San Francisco’s and Vancouver’s Chinatowns were the gates and the bilingual street signs (although Vancouver has a better gate).  I also loved how CitiBank and Bank of America gussied up their buildings (the Bank of America we drove past in the Castro actually had rainbow flags hanging in the lobby).  For his lunch and dim sum fix, my honey ate at the Four Seas; I did not partake as I was not yet hungry, but the service was abysmal.  Although we arrived at lunch, he only saw two dim sum trays before our time constraints required us to leave.  After several minutes of being by passed I gave my credit card to the hostess which she delivered to the wait staff; we waited another several minutes for someone to appear with the receipt.  A lady we had not seen arrived with our check, but rather than drop it she hovered over our table while my husband completed it.

After all the waiting and watching him eat, I realized that I might not be eating for several hours (depending on the wedding reception fare) so we wondered around Chinatown making our way back to North Beach, but Italian wasn’t calling my name.  Somehow (I cannot be trusted to navigate), we missed Portsmouth Square but (walked several blocks north and out of the way and) found Washington Square and St Peter and St Paul Church so we caught a bus back down Columbus where I did take this neato shoot of Cafe Zoetrope and the TransAmerica Pyramid.

Heading back to the apartment, we caught the California car that led us to the Top of the Mark which we had missed on our previous day’s itinerary as a drink spot.  I am glad we visited during the day as my honey took some gorgeous photographs of the city.  I enjoyed a lovely fourteen dollar Valley salad (baby spinach, grilled endive, Point Reyes Bleu, tomatoes, and candied walnuts)  along with my fourteen dollar a glass pinot noir.  I must say that the salad was delicious with a surprisingly generous portion, and my pinot noir was rather tasty (Gloria Ferrar).  I decided to forgo the $23 a glass Moet White Star (please note this bottle retails for around $60), but I did understand that I was paying for the breath taking views not whatever was being served.  In fact our server assumed we just wanted to take the pretty pictures as he brought us our drinks and the check before I had a chance to order lunch.

After such delightful daytime views, I insisted we return for evening views.  Unfortunately, the loudest New Englanders imaginable sat one table away recalling their days of drunken debauchery; however, I did get to sample a 12 year old Jameson pour with my molten chocolate cake.  The pour wasn’t as enjoyable as I wanted (it was more like scotch than my beloved Jameson), and the cake was dry and missing the super chocolate divinity of the last molten cake I enjoyed (thanks Rezaz).  My honey did enjoy his $13 Mojito more than his $10 chardonnay from our previous visit.

Solo Friday

Friday left me unexpectedly flying solo due to a change in the pre wedding events.  Being the shirking violet that I am, I decided to stick to familiar territory.  I caught MUNI 71 to the Haight in order to capture my super touristy Haight-Ashbury photo and get my mom “something hippy” (this was her verbatim request).  Although I arrived three hours later than our first outing, I still could not bring myself to photograph the sign nor could I purchase something hippy for my mom since it all seemed like shit I could I easily and cheaply get in Asheville.  However,  I did hit the Conservatory of Flowers that we had skipped on Wednesday due to our need for food.  It was pretty much the same as visiting the Biltmore Estate’s conservatory, albeit for much less money (five dollar admission).  They had orchids galore as well as a number of pitcher plants, but in the final wing, I was so hot that I cut my tour short.

I walked through the Haight to the much under rated (at least in the travel books I read) Buena Vista Park.  The climb is steep (very San Francisco) and shady, but the views are well worth it.  I did not arrive early enough to catch the bridge before the fog rolled in, but I still snagged some awesome city views with the bridge peeking out.  All of the parks make Asheville and the National Parks Service seem so draconian; none of the handful of parks we visited required dogs to be leased in all areas (and I’m not talking about a fenced-in mud pit either).  I then proceeded to get lost in my attempt to enjoy an afternoon tea at Samovar Tea Lounge; I knew the Haight-Noriega bus drove right by it on Wednesday after our Golden Gate Park outing, but I could not recall the address (and I repeatedly failed to write it down or take down a phone number).  So I ended up riding right past it, then waiting for the next outbound 71 (they were only fifteen minutes apart) and getting off a stop too early then walking a few blocks around and finally arriving for my afternoon tea sweaty with my windblown hair giving me a crazy lady look.  The service was slow; I found my own menu on the counter while the staff discussed their weekend plans (at the end of my meal I left my table for the bar to get the check).  I did enjoy the nice spring mix salad  with the veggie quiche; the fruit plate was disappointing with bland figs, strawberries, and melon.  The scone was delightful, even without the clotted cream and jam.  I also enjoyed the black tea plain, with sugar, with milk, and with sugar and milk; I’ve been craving a scone and tea every afternoon since we returned!

After taming my hair and showering, my honey and I strolled down to his must eat restaurant, Millennium.  We arrived at their door thirty minutes early, so we decided to have a cocktail at the Grand Cafe (same name as the place we held our wedding luncheon in Key West and where I enjoyed my first dark and stormy).  Elderberry liqueur appeared on seemingly every cocktail menu in the city so I decided to enjoy a nice aperitif of sparkling wine and the liqueur de rigueur.  I repeated this selection a few times, and I enjoyed it equally at each stop.  The bar was busy, and as such our service reflected it; the menu looked pricey but interesting, and the interior was grand with its pretty wood and high ceilings.  The dining room proper was elevated from the bar area so it probably afforded a much lovelier atmosphere for a date; the bar area had tables squeezed in wherever they could which was fine for our pre dinner drink.

Millennium is a high end vegan restaurant.  Much to my initial dismay the entire table had to participate in the tasting menu which my husband was set on; however, it all worked out for a delicious dining experience.  Our first course was a trio of ceviche, and unfortunately, I cannot recall anything other than it was delightful and left me eagerly awaiting the upcoming courses.  Although I didn’t recognize it, the menu lists hearts of palm, but how can a sustainable restaurant serve hearts of palm?  The second course was poori, and again my memory fails other than my disappointment at the serving size.  The main course was the best; I had a tamale stuffed with scrumptious chanterelle mushrooms, edamame, and jasmine rice (the menu also mentions nectarines but I don’t see how I would have forgotten my favorite fruit).  He enjoyed the fingerling potato roulade, and while pototoes that aren’t deep fried aren’t generally my cup of tea (I do make an exception for the Noodle Shop’s slivered and vinegared potatoes amuse bouche) I almost wanted to switch plates with him.  The potatoes were cooked perfectly and seasoned divinely; again, I have been craving them ever since.  My adulation of the main course has washed all traces of the dessert from my memory, but my honey said he was shocked at the massive chunk of cake (he also said he really enjoyed it).  Millennium was to be our splurge dinner (although all of our meals were pretty pricey), and it was disappointing that their layout has their two tops crammed together with one person sitting on a banquet and the other facing in a chair.  About mid-way through our entrees, the other two tables had left so we were finally able to enjoy each other’s conversation without having to drown out the neighboring conversations.  Our server was busy with a larger table and a busy section to really bother with our meager little two top, but the buser attended to our drinks and prompt plate removal.  While taking our drink order, she seemed annoyed to have to explain the difference between “sustainable” and “biodynamic” wines; maybe she expected me to know, but neither term has a legal definition so the onus is on those using the term to define it.  However, snotty server or not, the food was great, and I would certainly return.

Wine Country

Thursday forced us to split up for pre-wedding events; the boys went golfing at Lincoln Park (the fog killed all Golden Gate Bridge photo ops), and the ladies were driven around by a lovely designated driver of a bridesmaid to three Dry Creek Valley wineries followed by a truncated Muir Woods visit (we arrived so late thanks to the congestion we didn’t even have to pay the $5 admission).  Our first winery was Dry Creek Vineyard; this was my first wine tasting (thanks Biltmore for being so understaffed and overcrowded!)  Unfortunately, we did have to pay at each winery (unless you purchased a bottle or more), but at Dry Creek we were able to choose which wines we wanted to sample.  I ended up buying a bottle of their chenin blanc at a grocery store, and at 12.50 I think it’s a nice little bottle.  Our next stop was a short walk across the street at Passalacqua; it reminded me of Biltmore: the grounds were much better than the wine.  Our final stop was Forchini, and it combined a lovely tasting area with pleasant wines.  The tasting room was closed when we pulled up, but by the time our awesome driver got the fifteen passenger van turned around in the small driveway, we were flagged down by (who I assume was) Jim Forchini.  We ate our picnic lunches on his shaded patio, and Jim poured us several glasses of his wines.  With all of the wines he gave what sounded like detailed discussions of the wine making.  I really enjoyed the chardonnay, cabernet sauvignon, and reserve zinfandel; much to my surprise I preferred the cab to his Chianti styled Papa Nonno.  I thought it was cool that the Forchini wines are estate bottled, and they sell their chardonnay grapes to Sonoma-Cutrer (my overpriced chardonnay of choice).  On our return trip we drove over the Golden Gate Bridge, but the fog was so thick that even driving over the bridge, one would have been hard pressed to identify it.

After wine country and Muir Woods, the ladies joined the boys at a dive bar briefly before we adjourned to our twenty top dinner reservation at a sushi restaurant in the Noe Valley, Hamano Sushi.  Of course in classic cliched fashion the boys failed to communicate our dinner reservervations so all twenty of us crowded the tiny doorway to wait for the restaurant to find a solution.  The restaurant threw together several tables with room for most of our party, but the North Carolina contingent ate apart in lieu of being crammed beside the stairs.  The sushi was much cheaper than in North Carolina according to my darling husband (however, we spent more than we would have at a normal sushi outing), but I cannot say that the quality was significantly better.  The selection of nigiri, however, was another plus: I had my first toro.  Of course my first encounter comes as my love of sushi and flesh in general is waning; therefore, I will not be reviewing Hamano other than to say they did a wonderful job of handling our mob.

After our long days and not really knowing which buses to take, we took our second cab ride of the trip home.

Wednesday in the Park

On our first full day we woke early to buy our seven day MUNI passes ($24 a piece for unlimited rides, including the $5 per ride cable cars!) and catch the 71 bus down to the Haight-Ashbury for my totally touristy photo and our adventures in Golden Gate Park.  We arrived too early in the morning for the Haight; the entire population consisted of bums and closed store fronts so I was too afraid to take my touristy photo for fear of drawing the pan handlers.  We walked around a bit waiting for the San Francisco Cyclery to open at 10am.  The morning was cold and foggy (and it didn’t really change as the day progressed), but we were prepared with jackets and pants.  We visited the serene beauty of the AIDS Memorial Grove;  it was much larger than I had envisioned.  My honey took some lovely photos with my favorite below.

AIDS Grove dry stream bed

Upon our return to our bikes (they are not allowed in the hallowed ground of the grove), we promptly biked right past our next destination, the Japanese Tea Garden.  After our confrontation with 19th Avenue we turned around and found the entrance.  The Japanese Tea Garden is quite lovely, although not as lovely as the Dr. Sun Yat-Sen Classical Chinese Garden in Vancouver.  However, there is a funding difference (the Chinese Garden cost double the Japanese Garden), and the Japanese Tea Garden was full of pretty scenes.

round bridge in the Japanese Tea Garden at Golden Gate Park

Due to time constraints, we by-passed the De Young Museum (although missing Tutankhamun was surely a mistake) and skipped across the Temple of Music Pavilion to the California Academy of Sciences.  The twenty-five dollar admission for adults (discounted by $3 for using public transit!) covers the entire building which houses the  Steinburg Aquarium, Morrison Planetarium, the Living Roof, and the Rainforest.  We both fell asleep during the Planetarium, but otherwise I felt the money was well spent.  The main draw for me was the Steinburg Aquarium, and I was not disappointed (I still prefer Vancouver’s Aquarium).  When you add the four story rainforest, it was certainly worth it.  My wonderful husband took these photos from the aquarium and rainforest.

The fare at the California Academy of Sciences cafeteria brought to mind ski resort food, so famished we rode down JFK Avenue to Rainbow Falls in route to the windmills when the groom called to arrange a meet up after they obtained their marriage license (sadly they drank across the bay).  My original itinerary had called for a lunch near Stow Lake, but we didn’t pack a picnic; with the fog we would not have been able to enjoy sunset at the Cliff House either so we turned around and headed back to the to the Conservatory of Flowers.  I oohed and ahhed over the free outdoor dahlia garden, but my husband insisted sustenance was the next order of business so we skipped the conservatory, returned the bikes, and hoped on the 71 Muni back to Union Square.  Below are a few of my favorite dahlias.

After a few cold ones back at the apartment, my honey was ready to get his raw on so we walked to Swan Oyster Depot only to be turned away.  They close start breaking down at around 4:30 and close the door at 5!  We stopped into the nearest doorway for a consolatory drink and something, anything for our empty bellies.  We sat at the bar in an attempt to get more prompt service, but alas, twas not the case.  The bartender was friendly enough, but she was kept busy by a large party elsewhere in the restaurant so we were attended by her and a manager.  I hadn’t really settled into a drink groove yet, so I perused their specialities and settled on a San Francisco sunrise (grapefruit juice, tequila, and grenadine) while my partner in dine had a local beer.  While we were waiting for the appetizers we had ordered we watched the manager restock the bar.  First she pulled out the big bottle of Patron and filled then fifth up and returned it to its place, then I watched as she took down a small bottle of Bailey’s and restocked it from a handle of Carolans!  With coffee, Carolans and Baileys are close enough; with a rocks pour, however, the difference is major, not to mention the price difference.  I’m not naive enough to think that restaurants don’t pull the old switcheroo, but a complimentary bottle of ketchup is a far cry from a $7 drink.  The food was fine (raw oysters for him and eggplant rollatini for me), but it wasn’t anything that one could not find in any number of restaurants in any number of cities across the country.  The service left much to be desired, and the deception made us regret ordering our food.

Hearty, filling Italian seemed like the best possible meal after our chilling day of biking around the park so North Beach beckoned.  I also got to go to City Lights and purchase a book.  We walked a few blocks from City Lights to Trattoria Pinochio.  Although I did not find the service at any of the other restaurants stellar, the staff of Trattoria Pinochio was on point.  They were exceptionally professional and timely without any annoying hovering; plates and silverware were removed once we were done, and our drinks (both water and adult) were filled as needed.  I do believe that the Kir Royale (I couldn’t drink enough sparkling wine the entire trip) I ordered was actually the Pinocchio Fantasia (the umbiquitous elderberry flower liqueur and sparkling wine) that I ordered later in the meal, but that was the only perceived service gaffe.  I ordered the caesar salad, but I ended up eating a good portion of his calamari.  The calamari was breaded lightly (not as lightly as Nona Mia’s) and served with an aioli and marinara; the marina was a perfect mix of spicy and tomato, and the aioli tasted much like I remember store bought mayonnaise tasting (albeit with herbs and a touch more lemon flavor).  My caesar was forgettable.  My gnocchi made up for the caesar with its pillowy texture, but much to my dismay the marinara served with my gnocchi wasn’t the same as the calamari sauce.  Instead I received an overly sweetened sauce, but I still enjoyed the dish overall.  Even though the portions of each course were generous, I still had tiramisu for dessert; while it didn’t live up to my La Caterina Trattoria memory it was better than most.

Olea

Part Two of my much anticipated series on our magnificent San Francisco vacation.  This installment consists of our dining experience at Olea.

After our grueling day of flying, we stayed close to the apartment for dinner.  Olea is a bright, little hole in the wall at the corner of California and Larkin Streets (although please strike from your mental image any dinginess); our first dinner in San Francisco was a lovely welcome.  In my husband’s eagerness to get his seafood fix covered he chose the clam  and chorizo appetizer with the familiar Duvel for his drink.  I chose the Fiddlehead Sauvignon Blanc (of which I recall nothing either good or bad), but none of the appetizers called my name.  Instead I chose to save room for the dessert: Gateau Breton.  For my main course I chose the vegan option (mind you this was not a vegetarian restaurant), a nice quinoa vegetable medley; it was light and tasty, but I regularly make a comparable dish at home so I wasn’t overly impressed with the dish.  The quinoa was fluffier than my home style preparation, but the plating was identical (as you can see from the crappy photo just dump it into a bowl).  My dessert, the best part of the meal, was buttery, much like a heavy pound cake.  The delightful tartness of the fruit sauce cut through the overpowering buttery flavor to create a lovely dessert, but the cake was served with slightly less sauce than required to complement it.  My husband shared my cake assessment; he thoroughly enjoyed his duck (it was a fair portion, too), but I did not partake.  Our server handled the entire thirty seat restaurant as host, server, and buser well.  Halfway through our meal a group of eight or so high heeled and tight skirted women descended upon Olea, and our server continued to run the front of house smoothly.

Olea Quinoa

Olea Duck

Olea Gateau Breton

Thirsty Monk South Review

My husband has restrained me from returning the Monk South, so this review is based on my opening night experience.  I would not post this if my experience on opening night had not been pleasant because opening night is when the bugs are discovered and dealt with on the fly.  However I had a nice time drinking good beer in South Asheville; although there are a few good taps or bottles in a few restaurants in this end of the county, I had to take minutes to decide which beer to have not because nothing really struck my fancy but because there were so many that struck my fancy and that I have not previously imbibed.

I should’ve tried one of the three beer flights (East, West, and Local); $5 gets you three sample pours.  I started with the Bell’s Two Hearted Ale, which was hoppier than I prefer.  The hoppy Bells made the Kwak seem bland, but I was also turned off by the wooden handle that cradles the glass.  On my return I made the big blunder of ordering the Sierra Nevada tripel; I don’t care what Sierra Nevada beer I have be it pale, porter, or tripel I always get that bitter hop aftertaste.  My French Broad Zepptoberfest was marred by it, and I didn’t try my honey’s Maudite because of it.

Monk South seems to be a bit of a combo of the Thirty Monk and the Pint House, with four or five local beers (Highland, Pisgah, French Broad, and Wedge were represented), a few Belgian beers (Chimay, Kwak, Maudite) with the rest on tap being American breweries (Terrapin, Sierra Nevada, Bells, and somewhat local Duck Rabbit).  However, I did drink a fair amount between my two visits (most being consumed with my DD in tow in the later part of the evening hence the first truncated post) and my memory is relatively poor to begin with (plus add my beer snob knowledge deficit).  I only payed attention to the taps, but they also have several bottles (and for the DDs Orangina!)

The limited food menu makes up for its size with its quality.  I did not have a chance to try to the olives, but the cheese board, pretzels, and monk nuts were great.  The nuts start sweet and then end with a spicy bite; the pretzels are soft and lightly salted with Lusty Monk mustard on the side, and the cheese board had five cheeses (goat, drunken goat, smoked gouda, aged gouda, and Chimay which is made the same monks that make the beer) with a nice portion of grapes, chutney, and crusty bread.  The mustard is quite spicy so if you have a milder tongue start really small, but if you love the heat they sell the mustard at local grocery stores.

Dogs and smokers are welcome on the patio with its great view of Gerber Village; the bar is long with plenty of stools, and Monk South has plenty of cute little two tops for date night.  The back bends around to dart boards and board games, and there is a couch with its own coffee table.  I love the chalkboard menu board with its promise of constantly changing inventory.

I did not ask about all the events (e.g. Babies and Beer), but I do know that Pint Night will be held at Monk South too.  Pint Night gets you the glass for the cost of a pint (including the beer), and I believe it occurs every Wednesday.  Regardless of the events, the bar is open until midnight on weeknights!  Not that I will be doing much bar drinking that late on a weeknight, but now if I have to pick my honey up from work in the late evening I can demand he drive me home after I knock a few back.

If you live south get down to the Monk South and spend some money so that we can all have a place to drink great beer within a five minute drive.

Please note the Google map location is incorrect;  I’ve created a map of my favorite Asheville spots which has the correct location.

Thirsty Monk South!!!

These pictures are not the best or most clear, but fuck it!  I drank good beer in South Asheville after nine pm (actually all of these photos were taken after 11:30 pm)!

In addition to the expected bar stools, Thirsty Monk South has a couch and coffee table area, two dart boards (with plenty of other board games), and a dog friendly patio (also smoker friendly).  I played some cricket with my honey, and he schooled me.  In my defense he was the designated driver.

We are so stoked about good beer in South Asheville, even if we still cannot catch the bus back home.  One step at a time.