Raising Arizona

After confusion, connections, and an overall bad travel day, I finally arrived in Phoenix, where thermometers boasted a bright and dry 60 degrees. It was one in the afternoon, Arizona time, which translated to three on my body's clock. Also, I'd been up since 5:30. Translation: I needed something to eat.

We ended up at a nearby Tempe restaurant called Z Tejas, where we could enjoy the sunshine. Food, as to be expected, fell into the category of Tex-Mex (my friends have promised to show me the best AZ has to offer while I'm here, which, in their estimation, comes down to beef and burritos), fine by me.

Cornbread arrived in its own small cast-iron skillet and full of actual pieces of corn. Fresh corn tortilla chips came with three salsas, a salsa verde and two red salsas, one of which hit high notes on the heat scale.

As for my meal, I ate a small salad with tomatoes, red peppers, lettuce, and a fiery mango dressing. Tomatoes were the kind of red easterners only see in August and September. I also had a small piece of pepper-crusted rare tuna, served in a wasabi sauce. The sauce was grand and sinus-clearing, though the tuna itself was just okay. It occurred to me later that only idiots order fish in landlocked states.

The meal's highlight, the true western experience, came in the form of tried and true tequila. My margarita arrived on the rocks and adorned with a rim of kosher salt. There was no Rose's Lime Juice in this cocktail, and it wasn't weighed down by any sugary sweet margarita mix, either. What I got, instead, was the vegetal hot tequila, interrupted only by the clean kick of citrus. Outside, in the sun, I couldn't have asked for anything better.

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Z Tejas
20 West 6th Street
Tempe, AZ 85281
480.377.1170

Apres Ski

Really, the only thing I wanted to eat after yesterday's ski trip to Attitash Mountain was (you guessed it!) pizza. But due to a number of circumstances, including, but not limited to, my best friend's craving for a 'decent' glass of pinot noir, we ended up at the Barking Dog Bar and Grill, a medium-sized pub in downtown Amesbury, Massachusetts.

Places like this are best suited for no-fuss-no-muss classics, like hamburgers and macaroni and cheese and decadently unhealthy sub sandwiches. I wasn't really looking to eat any of those things, so I sifted through the seafood options. Blackened seafood with pasta. Mediterranean seafood with pasta. Seafood Provencal with pasta. Grilled salmon (I hate salmon; I don't care how good it is for you). Blah, blah, blah.

What I did end up ordering was a grilled seafood plate, replete with grilled (and gummy) sea scallops, grilled shrimp, and grilled tuna. The tuna was overcooked at medium and the salad of 'wilted greens,' really no more than mesclun and roasted red peppers, overwhelmed an already overburdened serving. I ate the tuna and the shrimp and left the rest for the garbage-eaters.

My best friend fared better with her appetizer of kielbasa, which arrived atop flatbread triangles with spicy mustard on the side. The plate, however, was too big for one person. Outside of metropolitan New York, American portion sizes seem designed to feed a family of four rather than one normal human being. The kielbasa was juicy and flavorful, as expected. I was glad to snack on her leftovers.

She ordered salmon for her entree, which I wouldn't have eaten on a dare. She seemed pleased enough, though I noted, once more, that the fillet exceeded ten ounces and sat atop a sprawling spread of potatoes and roasted vegetables that could have sated even the hungriest skier.

I guess even in damaged economic times excess is still the American way.

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Barking Dog Bar and Grill
21 Friend Street
Amesbury, MA 01913
978.388.9537