Capri

Capri, a very traditional Mafioso-feel Italian restaurant, is located at 75th and College, adjacent to the Glick Junior Achievement center.  Despite its proximity to Walmart, it has an impeccable ambiance (even on the patio overlooking the parking lot).  Mature vines make up an arboretum that covers the entire deck, transporting you to Europe.  In this heat though (at 7:30pm the heat index was still well over 90F), we opt for the lounge.

The Fireplace in the lounge area of Capri

Torrey is my dinner date du jour.  She is the adorable, Purdue-bound youngest daughter of my dear friends Cara and Chris.  Her graduation gift from yours truly is helping me review three eateries this summer, this being our maiden voyage.  I have been to Capri several times, but sweet Torrey has never even heard of it, so I am anxious for her perspective.  Torrey comes from a foodie family.  In fact, her dad was just named the newest General Manager of St. Elmo. Torrey informs me that she has already been to this proud Indianapolis landmark 3 times since her dad started (two weeks ago). After hearing every last detail of the mouth-watering morsels she enjoyed at each of her three (3!) meals, I am certain she will be a touch critic partner. Let the games begin!

Caesar Salad + Shrimp Fra Diavola at Capri

We walk in and Torrey, ever the romantic (she is 17, after all), is immediately cooing over the setting and the sweet elderly Italian-accented man who seats us in the lounge (oblivious to the fact that Torrey is a minor and this is almost certainly against our archaic Indiana liquor laws).  He seats us at a romantic table in the corner near the fireplace (perhaps he thinks there may be canoodling? Doubtful. I am grateful for the prized restaurant real estate nevertheless).

Our server is a handsome middle-aged, Italian man with a thick accent.  His name is Michael--slightly disappointing... why not Fabio or Pietro or Giovanni? (I think if I were Michael I would have a stage name that sounds more Italian). Regardless, Torrey declares the menu "Amazing!" and we order Shrimp Fra Diavolo as an appetizer, Caesar salads, and respective pasta dishes.  I order the Tortelloni, modified to be prepared Bosceola-Style (tomato cream sauce and portobella mushrooms). Torrey opts for the Tagliatelle de Fattore (thick ribbon noodles with cream sauce, chicken, sun-dried tomatoes and asparagus).

The shrimp are fantastic.  The are large, taste very fresh, and are bathed in a rich, extra-garlicky tomato sauce peppered with fresh cherry tomatoes and chili flakes.  The only sad part is that there is nothing to mop up the sauces (until we start using the fresh, hot rolls on the table--mission accomplished).  The Caesar salads are classic: creamy, rich, and full of the complex, nutty anchovy flavor.  Beware the croutons--they are the type that can hurt your mouth if not handled with care (very crunchy!). 

The pastas arrived.  We each tasted and loved both.  Gracing my bowl were ricotta-stuffed pasta pockets basking in creamy tomato sauce with earthy mushroom back notes.  Torrey is not a fan of mushrooms but loved it none the less.  Her dish was perfectly al dente, with a rich cream sauce and loads of flavors.  Her minor complaint was the chicken (slightly dry).  

Everything worked together very nicely, and we were stuffed.  Capri gets 4/5 for its old-world ambiance, moderate pricing, and oh-so-classic food. This is a perfect place for a date (ask to be seated in the lounge), a birthday dinner, or a business meal requiring heavy conversation. Salute!

Manhattan Beach (CA)

Driving from San Diego to LAX is a risky proposition.  According to various  locals, it could take 2 hours or all day. I chose to hedge my bets and go in plenty of time for my red-eye that evening. Lucky for me, there was a serious outlet mall in Carlsbad (right on the way).  One of my San Diego associates told me that if I have extra time, I should go kill it at Manhattan Beach, a high-rent beach neighborhood surprisingly close to the airport.  Perfect!


I found may way to the Manhattan of the left coast. It struck me as a laid-back, less-resortish version of Laguna... definitely more up my alley. Less loud "look at me" money and more "I just like the beach" money. I could be totally off-base, but that is the vibe I got.


I walk down to the beach, sticking my toes in the water despite the fact that I am the only one sans wetsuit within 30 feet of the surf. The water is bracingly cold, but I'm a happy Piscean Hoosier happy to get one last taste of the ocean before a summer filled with murky, muddy, lakes (better than nothing, but not the big blue Pacific).

Four Sisters--a beach eatery in Manhattan Beach, CA

When I think my feet may start turning blue, I head away from the beach and decide Happy Hour sounds good. I find a cute little place called Four Daughters (named after--you guessed it--the owner's four daughters) and settle into the bar. I order a glass of cheapish Cabernet (Santa Rita 120), Bang Bang Shrimp, the Sliders, and a house salad. Each of these items sets me back a whopping $4. I could get used to the beach!


Everything is yummy. There's a nice little jicama/cucumber slaw under the shrimp, the salad is very fresh, the vinaigrette is homemade, and even the wine is tasty. The thing that strikes me about California (broadly speaking) is that they really understand how to use vegetables more effectively. They always taste good, are fresh, and the variety here is incredible. You actually want to eat the garnish instead of just shoving it to the side of your plate.


Four Daughters is the near-perfect little beach eatery (4/5). My only knock is that the wine list isn't mostly California, which I truly don't understand with the gold mine of local wines in their backyard. Alas! The atmosphere is, well, beachy. The service is laid-back and friendly. The food is laid-back and friendly. In fact, all of Manhattan Beach seems laid-back and friendly. And, well, beachy. I will happily arrive at LAX with a few hours to spare in the future to make a little detour. Cheers!

Gourmet Dinner (in the middle of nowhere)

On our last camping trip, the piece de resistance of the weekend was our dinner Saturday night. After a full day of canoeing 15 miles (and many of us drinking as many beers), we knew we needed a substantial, delicious meal that a monkey could prepare (who knew what state the cooks would be in?).


Foodie genius Courtney's time-tested solution? Foil-packs! (note to self: must think of a more appealing name for said delicious feast). We chopped chicken breasts and beef tenderloin into bite-sized pieces. The chicken got a marinade of lemon juice, olive oil, dijon, garlic, salt, pepper and herbs. The beef was marinated in worcestershire, soy, canola oil, garlic, salt, and pepper. Onions and bell peppers were chopped and bagged with some olive oil. Mushrooms were sliced and bagged. Red potatoes were chopped into 1-inch pieces and par-boiled. We let them cool, bagging them with olive oil and steak seasoning. Haricot verts were washed and trimmed.


When the meat had marinated 24 hours, the packs were assembled. Potatoes went on the bottom, then the meat (about 8-10oz of beef or chicken) with the veggies on top. The were wrapped in foil twice to prevent marinade leakage or cooler-water infiltration (apparently Courtney learned that trick from an unfortunate experience last trip).

After coming back to the camp site tired, tipsy, bug-bitten, sore (4/11 of our canoes tipped--some with dramatic crashes), and overexposed from the Indiana's midsummer sun, the foil packets were a sight for sore eyes and an answer to our hungry prayers. Every happy camper grabbed their dinner, threw it on the grill grate over the fire ring, and happily devoured their bounty of meat, potatoes and veggies only 15-20 minutes later. Such simple food, so simply prepared... absolutely joyous in our condition. Cheers!