Tilia

What do can I possibly have to say about a restaurant recently voted best of 2011 by Minnesota Monthly that hasn't already been said by people with ten times more Facebook friends than little old me?

Plenty.

First, full disclosure: my friends Angie and Jorg are proud co-owners of Tilia, along with renown Chef Steven Brown. 

Tilia offers more than just really, really good food. Dinning at Tilia is akin to visiting with old friends. You are left with a sense of warmth, of gratitude, of longing for the next encounter. But let's start from the beginning.

The setting is gorgeous. From the carefully chosen light fixtures to the retro speakers belting out a unique mixture of old and new rock medleys, to the vibrating scene in the kitchen, Tilia looks like it's always been in this very spot in the heart of Linden Hills. Choose between the comfy booths, the rustic row of tables by the windows, or better yet, pull up a stool to kitchen counter and watch the magic happen first hand. Steven Brown's crew is having a good ol' time, and it shows in the dishes they put out.

The menu is playful, right down to the kids' menu printed on those little origami fortune-teller thingies we played with in elementary school to predict who we would marry and how many children we were destined to have.

For grown ups, may I suggest starting with a sampling from the It's Nice to Share section. I wouldn't have dared ordering something called Potted Meat anywhere else, but I trusted Steven and it has now become something that visits me often in my dreams. Like wise for the caramelized brussels sprouts and kobe beef hot dogs with pickled cauliflower. Crazy simple, crazy good.

A turkey burger is elevated to extraordinary heights with caramelized onions and gooey cheese. The meat is so, well, meaty, you would swear they threw some ground steak in the mix, so juicy it soaks through the sweet bun. Pictures do not do this beauty justice.

I have one bone to pick with the fish taco torta. While it is by far the very best, crunchiest, freshest fish sandwich I have ever tasted, it is not, by definition, a torta, which is specifically served on a bolillo or a telera roll, vs. the plain bun used here. But that just may be the obsessive compulsive writer in me talking.

Moving on, the shrimp in a glorious scampi sauce along with bright sweet peas is lick-the-plate delicious. You are supposed to share it, but HA! All mine.

The current menu features winter friendly items, such as red wine braised beef cheeks perched atop chestnut polenta and roasted figs. The meat is so tender it falls apart as the fork approaches it. The flavor is rich beyond explanation, like no other cut of meat I have sampled. You'll just have to put your Andrew Zimmern hat on and try it despite the mental image it conjures.

I haven't tried the wintery versions of the pasta dishes, but if the previous incarnations are any indication, the Tagliatelle Pasta will join it's friend the potted meat in my dreams soon enough.

Tilia has gotten more accolades than "Rent" and has quickly become the darling of every food critic worth their salt in the Midwest. And while it's true that getting a coveted seat for their Sunday brunch has become even closer to impossible now that it's been named Best Brunch by Mpls/St. Paul magazine, and you may have to wait for a while for lunch, or dinner, even on a Monday night, you can choose to visit Tilia during its "In Between" hours, when the menu is slightly narrower but the experience no less enchanting.

From an expertly chosen wine and beer list to fresh local produce, no detail is neglected at Tilia. So bring your Nook and read a novel while waiting for your table. It will be worth it. Oh, so worth it.

The seriously indulgent butternut squash soup. Plan to share it, and to take some home.

I'd drive around that damn lake just for this chewy, hot grilled bread. I swear they lace it with something. 

I told you the turkey burger didn't photograph well. 

You have not lived until you have delved into the lush bed of farro in gorgonzola sauce adorning the crunchy sweet beet salad. Sigh. 

The beef cheeks, a thing of carnivorous beauty. 

Pear tart with creme fraiche panna cotta in a white wine, pear, and goat cheese reduction. I think. I stopped listening at creme fraiche panna cotta. 

It was really good.

Tilia web site

Patisserie 46

I've been trying to abstain from sugar until Thanksgiving. And it was going quit well too. Until I happened to be in South Minneapolis, which I rarely get to since it's all the way across the river, and I happened to be driving down 46th street, and I happen to have just come from a baking presentation by Zoe Francois, and I happen to be hungry and maybe just a little bitter about the whole no-sugar thing, and I came across what I knew to be tauted as the best bakery in the metro. And I knew that my readers (that's you) have been dying to know if Patisserie 46 is really as fantastic as they say. And I'm trying to shop local...

So I went for it. I marched into that cute little corner bakery slash coffee shop and ordered. And ordered. And ordered.

I patiently waited through the long drive back to Saint Paul (seriously, Minneapolis is far!) so that I can snap a couple of pictures of all that loveliness. Then I made myself a cup of tea and gathered my family for a little tasting.

The brioche bostock was crazy good. While usually bostock is a way of using day-old brioche by brushing it with syrup and topping with almonds, Patisserie 46th's was a version all it's own. It was a moist, dense cake, baked with almond paste and topped with slivered almonds. A hint of orange was delightful, and the crunchy almond topping was a perfect match to the soft interior. I could have stopped there. But I didn't.

Next, we tried a roasted pineapple danish sprinkled with lime zest. It was sweeter than the brioche, and the layers of ultra buttery, flaky dough were ridiculously sinful. I am sure the rest of their danishes and croissants are divine as well.

A thick slice of vanilla cardamon bread had sat a tiny bit too long, so one side was a bit dry, but it was delicious non-the-less. The subtle cardamon was a fun surprise, and did not over power the delicate vanilla. Soft and rich and satisfying, this would be my first choice for a partner to a morning cappuccino.

Finally, a little cookie that was recommended to me by a young man promising "a cake like cookie, buttery and doughy" didn't quit deliver. It may have been softer earlier in the day, but as it was we enjoyed it simply as a nice little butter cookie. At $1.25, it really wasn't much of a risk.

Our entire plate of sugary goodness was under $12, not what you would expect from a bakery owned by a chef named one of the top 10 pastry chefs in America who also happens to be a Food Network Chocolate Challenge winner. I would have gladly paid double.

Next time, I would like to spend some time in the cozy shop, and indulge in one of their dazzling desserts, the likes of which one only sees on Food Network.

Patisserie 46 web site

Scusi

Let me start by saying Italian food is not one of our favorites. I find it mostly bland, and I think it has to be crafted by amazing talent in order to be fabulous. But we were still hopeful when we visited Scusi, the latest attempt by Blue Plate Restaurants. Since we love Longfellow Grill and its counterparts across the metro, I was excited to see what they would do with a bowl of pasta.

Not much, as it turns out.

First, the setting. Scusi is in Heartland's old home on St. Clair in St. Paul. Other than being directly across from a Super America, it's a perfectly lovely neighborhood spot. The inside has been reinvented to resemble an Italian country bistro of sorts, with blue and white checkered table cloths and rich wood paneling on the walls. There is the ubiquitous open kitchen, nicely countering the tightness of the table spacing. I assume they were going for that European feel-like-you-are-sitting-in-your-neighbor's-lap vibe, but I worry how well that will go over in our personal space sensitive culture.

To say the place was boisterous is a bit of an understatement, and the bizarre choice in decidedly un-Italian music and a weird movie playing on several screens over people's heads didn't help. But then again, they are not trying to be La Grolla. Groups of women clinking wine glasses and two large groups of hipsters on a Friday night group date dominated the space, with a few couples struggling to hear each other thrown in.

While this is not exactly a "theme" restaurant, the creative team clearly had an idea in mind (insert mental image of a group of scruffy entrepreneurs drinking local, seasonal beers and throwing random ideas around until one sticks.) What Scusi seems to be going for, and has trained their staff well to convey to us, is a refined Bucca. Our plates, while regular entree sized, are meant to be shared, explained our server Randall, or Robert, or Ricky, I couldn't hear. They come out of the kitchen as they are ready instead of waiting for each other under a heat lamp and we are just to dig in and share them as they appear. I am not sure why this needed an explanation.

We began with an assortment off the salumeria portion of the menu. We chose a cheese, a meat, and a choice of olives, which arrived on a rustic cutting board with roasted garlic in a tiny pool of olive oil. There were only four slices of bread with which to enjoy this assortment, but luckily a server also placed what seemed to be a doggie bag and a crock of white bean dip on our table. Inside the doggie bag was rosemary flat bread, which we smeared with the garlic and topped with prosciutto and brie. Our choices were not exactly adventurous, but it was a very nice start to our meal.

For dinner, we chose lamb pappardelle and shrimp ravioli to share (because if nothing else, we are good at following directions.) The lamb dish, while largely lacking in said slow cooked lamb, had a subtle Mediterranean flavor, with sweet carrots and golden raisins in a lamb ragout. The pappardelle noodles were perfectly cooked, fat and satisfying. It was exactly what the doctor ordered (I had a cold, you see.)

Although I had originally ordered the shrimp ravioli, we switched plates after a small taste of each. The robust vodka sauce on the ravioli was the highlight of the evening, but the texture of the shrimp did not work with the delicate ravioli pasta. I should mention that the pasta at Scusi is home-made, so it is a bit more chewy than most Americans might be used to. But give it a chance, it is delightful.

We declined desserts, partly because I am staying away from sugar until Thanksgiving, and partly because we had tired of the noise. But the cake placed on the table next to us looked divine, so I would recommend trying something dolce if you decide to visit Scusi.

All in all, it was a good attempt at homey, rustic Italian cuisine. While the menu selections were innovative and promising, something was lost in the execution.

Italian food does not photograph well. You'll see what I mean below.

Our salumi selection.

Lamb pappardelle.

Shrimp ravioli.