Food Adventures : Knaus Berry Farms

"Have you been to Knaus Berry Farm ?"


If you live in South Florida and you haven't yet, you should. After completing our primary mission of finding Bee Heaven (see previous post ), we wondered since we were already down in the Redlands, Knaus Berry still open for the season? This place would be way easier to find than Bee Heaven. Unfortunately, after looking up the number and calling, we get a recording that tells us they are closed until November. Yep, they are seasonal. Much like the farmers markets in the Midwest close in the fall, and reopen in the spring (winter kinda rough), Knaus Berry and others like it close in the spring and opens in the fall (summer heat kinda sticky). I don't remember when it was exactly that Lisa and I first went down there, but it was my dissertation supervisor who mentioned this place in the Redlands that had sticky buns that are like crack. 

She then made our particularly tedious Saturday meeting way better by producing said sticky buns, which she had been storing in her freezer. Of course microwave reheated baked goods is not generally an appetizing concept, but these babies were delicious. Dem did eat well good and the decision to seek out Knaus Berry ourselves was made. 

Knaus Berry Farm is also a U-pick tomatoes and strawberries. It is owned and operated by the Knaus family, who I have learnt aren't Mennonites like we previously thought, they also are not Amish, but are members of a German Baptist sect, popularly referred to as Dunkers . 

As typical of many of New Baptist faiths, the Knaus' reputation for exceptional  baked goods is also solid. The sticky buns, milk shakes, and other baked goods are perhaps what the Knaus' farm is best known for, but they also have fresh produce. On the day we went we picked up two dozen  incredibly crack-like sticky buns, some insanely good herb rolls (scarfed down a dozen in all of 2 days), tomatoes, a massive head of lettuce, cilantro, spinach, scallions, and onions. 

Before picking up this stuff though, we did head into the fields with our little plastic crates to reap tomatoes and strawberries ourselves. As a rule of thumb though, when you going to do the U-pick thing, its best to get an early start. Find out when the farm opens and be there as close to that time as you can to get first pick and avoid long lines. Lisa and I got there either late morning or early afternoon. The lines for the milkshakes, bakery, and produce shop were already pretty long and di parking lot did ram like dem did a gi weh tings fi free. 

The staff inside is pretty efficient though, so the lines move quickly and you can slip into one of the parking spaces that are vacated at the same pace that the lines move. We were a little too late to pick our own strawberries (the field was already thoroughly pillaged) and we only ended up with one. But it was fun to head out back and check out the lines of strawberry bushes and dig through them a little bit. 

  

What we lost out on picking our own strawberries we made up for in tomatoes.

See di one likkle strawberry peepin' out? So, to recap, go early. If you are like us and sometimes don't quite manage that, never mind the lines, try every baked good that catches your fancy, buy whole heap a sticky buns for you and for your friends to try - dem can freeze, try a milkshake and tell me how it tastes, and even if you are too late to pick your own strawberries, pick some tomatoes - they will have strawberries up front too. 

Hopefully, there will be more Redlands adventures down the road. I really enjoy the feeling that we have suddenly driven out of farin and ended up in another country entirely. Mek sure if you haven't, do some exploring in our South Florida backyard of your own. Whole heap a fun food tings out there to do and one thing is almost always certain, yu wi find someting whe eat good. 

PS

Pictures courtesy of Lisa. 

Food Adventures : Bee Heaven Farms

I am a convert of the live in the now faith. I make a conscious effort daily to enjoy my life and all its gifts and blessings everyday. One of the things that is a big part of my live in the now is actively enjoying things, all things, bright and beautiful, great and small. Atop this list of course, is food.  Thus, things typically considered mundane like buying produce, become an adventure.  Years in boarding school have taught me to find delight and laughter in the tiniest of things, and as I get older I am thankful for those lessons. 

For example, on this particular adventure to down to the Bee Heaven Farm in the Redlands , we noticed one of the farms used plums trees, like they do in Jamaica as a border along the perimiter of the farm. 

I’m talking an explosion of green plums, on whole heap a trees, me hanging out the window of the car, and Lisa asking “yu see no red one, you see no red one?” This was simple, but also a living in the now moment that made me very happy.

We drove by the perimeter plum trees when we were thoroughly lost. Back up likkle bit though – cart gone clear outa di gate before di donkey to baxide. I mentioned Bee Heaven Farms in my second post – Lisa gets a half a share in the winter that she picks up at a location in North Miami, and in the summer, she orders what she needs and picks it up at the actual farm in the Redlands. My understanding of the process is that the heat in the summer time is a bit much for some of the very delicate herbs and vegetables that they grow like zucchini, lettuce, parsley, and escallion. Summertime seems to be the fruit time. The air in the farm house was filed with that sweet sweet smell of really ripe mangoes. I mean, instant transport back home to mango groves in the bushes of Seaforth, St Thomas where the ground is carpeted with fallen mangoes in the summertime.

You know how songs trigger memories? Well food smells trigger memories too. There is a dam in Serge Island St Thomas (now referred to as Reggae Falls  ) –that either fell into disrepair or was never used for its intended purpose of harnessing hydro-electricity. Abandoned project or not, dat river water is the coldest, crispest, and most refreshing place of frolic in my memory to date (a close second is tubing down white river ). Wata did so cowl we coulda submerge a crate a soda and have cold pepsis and cola champagnes in an hour or so. Daddy would pack up us and all our friends into one of the buses on hot summer days and shuttle us up to the dam, through the mango groves. On one trip the floor of the bus was filled with mangoes we had stopped and picked up to eat during our day swimming at the dam. The smells of the farm house in the Redlands brought me right back to the pre-teen years where summer meant plenty mango and river bathing.

I get one or so digressions per post don’t it? So back to the Redlands. Lisa couldn’t remember precisely where it was so we had to program our GPS Gwen. My GPS in Columbia’s name is Tom (short for Tom Tom and my car’s name is Juan, Juan Toyota to be more precise). We name our cars and some of their accessories. That being established, it wasn’t really Gwen’s fault that when she said “arriving at your destination on the left,” the only thing to the left was an empty field. Same thing on the right, and ahead and behind was a dirt road. You see, what had happened was, she never got programmed with precise enough directions – why? Because the actual address could not be found in her directory – see how far outa bush we did deh? She got programmed with half of it and we ended up a good couple a blocks west of where we were supposed to be.

At this point, Lisa decides to go for markers that she recognizes. After misrecognising a Tom Thumb as the small no name convenience store that was at the corner of the road we should have turned on, we drove till there was no more road, paved or dirt  - but found the plum tree perimeter. With just a likkle track ahead we had to reassess.  We soon discovered that “Good Morning, do you know where Bee Heaven farm is” had to be “Hola, donde esta Bee Heaven” pero, the only response we got was “no se.” Typically I get a little antsy when we are lost. I don’t like getting lost. It scares me,  really it does. We got lost off the Long Island express way once and I swear to you I think the only reason Lisa stopped and asked for directions was because she was scared I would have a melt down and we never had time for that plus return the rental and mek a flight back to Florida. Driving wise, Lisa likes to navigate her own way out of being lost. I just like to know exactly where I going and cant really deal wid when I don’t. There’s nothing like moving to the Midwest by yourself to fix that right up though. I’m a lot more relaxed now, having ended up at the end of the paved road or amidst soy been fields on a few occasions in Missouri. So once we pin pointed where we were, and checked back the address, we started again to try to find this place, and eventually, we found it.

As you can already tell, the trip down there was perhaps more exciting than what we actually went down to pick up: beets, mangoes, organic honey, eggs, and smoked eggs. 

Sometimes the actual adventure isn’t the food, its what it takes to get to it. Getting lost in the Redlands, laughing our asses off when Lisa threw down the car in the water filled trenches in the dirt roads at 60 mph, the plums, the smells evocative of summers long gone, realizing I no longer regard getting lost with intense trepidation, and sharing that ease with the person who had to handle my phobia of being lost the most, are the things whe mek di trip. This is one of the things that I miss most when I'm in Missouri: food adventures with Lisa that are so much more than what we end up stuffing ourselves with. I can only hope that while I am gone, she and Alli B will also find the same mutual understandings of and respect for each other through food adventures of their own. Perhaps after years and years of being separated by school and age, all three of us in the same place can enjoy and appreciate the same things together.  What better way to do that but over food? Caw wah? It eat good!

PS

Nevamind di sorry resolution on the pics. Camera bruk a week ago and I have to be workin wid di camera phone till canon send it back good as new. Also, 

Coming up:

more Redlands fun stuff – “Have you been to Knaus Berry Farm?”

Body Image & Food

Heavy, don't it! Not to mention complex. I don't even operate under the misconception that I will be able to explore the complexities of these things and the relationship between them in a blog posting. Once I get tenure though, it's one of my more 'fun' book ideas - specifically the relationship between these things among women (more specifically, women of colour in developing spaces). Meanwhile, though, I can talk about a few dimensions of this relationship and how it plays out in my real life, personal and professional. 


To begin with, people tend to be a little baffled and perhaps slightly confused by my obsession with all things food. My Facebook page is thoroughly littered with various delicious and odd pictures of things I have eaten. A longtime friend mentioned telling his friends about me, his friend who was uncharacteristically obsessed with food - so much so that I take pictures of it. Uncharacteristically, I suppose, because I don't really look like somebody who would eat and love eating as much as I do. The latter hits at the heart of what I think this post is about. As I am sure you realize, sometimes mi nuh really know whe mi a go, mi tek nuff diffrant routes, but me always end up somewhe. So like I tell my students, there is method to my madness, so bear wid me. So back to the enjoying eating part. Lets face it, there are schools of thought that hold that women especially aren't supposed to enjoy eating. 


Let me break that down a little - possibly little less delicately than is perhaps preferred - but you bearing wid me yes? If you eat nuff you wi get fat. If you love food especially, you a go fat. Fat is not good for a woman - she nah go look good.  I have learnt in my journey through life, that fat means different things in different places. In lets say Miami, I was a 'big girl' at 5 feet 4 inches tall and 145 pounds and in Missouri I'm oh so tiny at 5 feet 4 inches tall and 145 pounds. The relativity of such things fascinates me, as I work though my own body image issues and my love of food. Before I moved to Missouri a year ago, after defending a doctoral dissertation, I was a good 15-20 pounds heavier than when I started. Put pon top a dat, when I moved to Miami for grad school, I was 125 pounds. I had gained 20-25 pounds over the course of 7 years. I know big whoop Sheri, really! Nonetheless, last year in the throes of finishing grad school and working the academic's job market - an inexplicable endeavor for the uninitiated - my father declared I was overweight.


Mek we put it all inna perspective now - I idolize my father and such perceived insensitivity was only amplified by my own issues with putting on the weight. He is a daughter's daddy through and through - but ( and pardon di generalization) a man 'im name. To his credit, when he realized how upset I was (if you know me well enough, you wi know mi red when mi stop talk) he immediately tried to fix the slight. But it was too late. Weight gain is a common symptom among those who have tread the same professional road that I have. Honestly, many tell me I got off easy. It was a stressful and incredibly demanding time that made it difficult to maintain healthy eating habits, muchless work exercise into the daily routine. Those close to me will tell you, I am a beast when it comes to work - nothing else is more important than making sure I maintain undistracted focus and pound out the desired product. Put on top of that my unrelenting dissertation supervisor, and it never pretty for Sheri. In the last year I worked on finishing the dissertation, preparing to defend it, working the job market, getting hired in woi woi (aka Columbia Mo), and relocating to woi woi. It did rough after accomplishing as much as I had to still be undone by a comment, from my beloved can do no wrong in my eyes daddy. (If I can find a way to relate food to how still being childless and unmarried has been used to diminish my accomplishments thus far, that may also be a future post.)


I know some of you who know me are thinking, Sheri, you have never been overweight so chill. And my friends, you are right. But I only disclose these things to show that I too have these issues with not being 102 pounds anymore, and the still very much wreak havok on my body image. Nevamind that at 102 I was breasts on two sticks, I was 102.  So, when somebody comments on my love of food, automatically a thought that forms is "I wonder if dem a suggest someting." I hope I have set this up right, but this is precisely why I am as open about loving food as I am. This fear of getting fat and being fat - whatever that happens to mean in your part of the world - leads us to want to closet our food  lives. We could also talk about notions of appetite. If you have a big appetite for food, it can only mean that your appetite for other things is just as big. The remnants of the Victorian age in our contemporary context suggests that the latter is not a desired quality in a good and virtuous woman. Gone astray again to baxide. 


These and many other reasons, turn the less brave among us into closet food lovers. "I'll have a salad," when we really want the ribeye, and nuh bada talk bout di motlen chocolate dessert whe nuh stop talk to we from we glimpse it inna di menu. Cant have him thinking yu eat nuff. I cant tell you how many times I've had men (and even worse women) look at me incredulously after I deal wid a serious plate a food. You invite me out, I a go eat. So far, at least once a semester, in just one class (I typically teach two courses per semester) we end up so not doing the business of the day. It's usually right before a break when I crashing and burning as fast as my students are. So, we spend the time talking about whatever - last semester they gave me tips on handing my first winter, we discussed some of the cultural implications of various reality tv shows, and a whole bunch of other things that I dont remember. This past semester a discussion of Mtv's College Life and helicopter parents soon turned to food. I believe it was my mention of LOVING the burger featured in commercial below. Now dat is a nice burger: 

As you can well imagine, the conversation took off instantly on Padma Laksmi's eroticized commodification and how entirely wrong it was of her to agree to be sexualized in this way for a burger of all things. Up front, I agreed with my students who argued based on the knowledge they gained from taking mainstream feminist classes that covered European and American approaches.  I am a teacher at heart, who even if I don't wholly agree can entertain and assist in the development of supported critical views. Their arguments were solid. There are things in this commercial that are red flags of problematic exploitation and devaluation. Nonetheless, I took the opportunity to plug my course next semester that will address subaltern feminisms that implicitly complicate mainstream readings. Subaltern women because of various circumstances have had to negotiate power and agency in ways women in the former spaces might not understand or might not be able to relate to.  To be clear, one approach doesn't negate the relevance and applicability of the other, but neither should be used to obscure our ability to see their mutual virtues. 

Mi gone Phd pon unoo it seems. Pull up likkle bit mek mi rephrase. Because one thing is present i.e. exploitation, commodification, and devaluation does not mean empowerment and agency aren't also present. Sure the commercial is problematic, but it shows a stunning woman of colour, who is central to the celebrity culinary professional landscape, EATING and LOVING what she is eating. AND, she is making beucoup dallas doin it. Dat mek it fi me. It was that commercial that made me go out and buy the burger. I know who she is from Top Chef  - I also know her history as a model. To me, while I can see the sexualized and gendered problematics in the commercial, I also see a woman who enjoys food and is still hella sexy eating it. In this commercial, she epitomizes a healthy relation to food. To me, that is a good thing.  

During the discussion, one of my students related a story of her love for nachos with the works - beautiful girl - not skinny by any means, but not fat either. She was out with longstanding guy friends and was wolfing down the nachos and smiling and mmmmmming and having a good ole time. In the midst of it she looks up and sees her guys staring at her incredulously. One said he had never seen a girl get down on some food like that before and he sees her in a whole new light. Whatever that light was, she admitted to being made uncomfortable by their observation and could no longer enjoy her nachos. Blasphemy mi seh!

This post has already gone on real long and I don't even know if it makes sense, but at the end of the day, some of these things have made me a food activist of sorts, one who fights for a healthy relation to food among women. My pictures of food, even this blog are a kind of rebellion and resistance of the things that make it difficult for women to be out about their love of food. Before wrapping this up though, I have to add, I don't just eat and eat and eat without cognisance of nutrition and a healthy lifestyle. I wont eat just anything from anywhere (well, maybe I might depending on whether on not I had a spinning class that day). Starting February just gone, I have worked diligently to incorporate a one hour increment at least four times a week, where I exercise - get my heart rate up. I am as invested in lookin supa sexy and fabulous as I am in enjoying my food. Balance is important. I hit the gym as hard as I hit my work, because mi love eat. And from it eat good, mi di de pon mi teet.


PS
Crazy, crazy, crazy love to Miss Nix for the shout out on her blog . Do check her out. In all honesty, aside from postsecret hers is the only blog I check on a regular. 

"So, you wanna take me out to eat, huh?"

First, let me confess, I don’t get to say the above very much. The why of this is a whole other blog, so mek we nuh worry bout dat part just yet. Dining out happens mostly with work peeps or with the Miami family. Shout out to Andy who is one of my favorite dining companions. He is steadily introducing me to all the places worth eating at, in and around Columbia, Missouri. Most notable are dinners and drinks at Sycamore , sushi at Osaka , and fried chicken at Heuers Country Store and Cafe, the place that had the pick-up truck with a dead dear in the flatbed parked out front. There is the goat jerky, and one of my students also shared deer jerky – they had cured themselves. Forthcoming post “A Year of Eating in MidMo.” But I digress, on the rare occasion that I am asked out to dine one on one, I believe people call this a date, where and who decides where we eat is crucial.

Couple things, we nuh really do chain restaurants more dan so (tek note seh mi neva seh neva. Good). It might be a little bit of snootiness, but it’s also an aversion to eating something that comes off of a mass production-esque assembly line. Fine it is snooty. I’ll accept that. I like to eat at places that are independent in their ownership and in their concept. No, upscale isn’t a criterion (though if you takin me to Smith and Wollensky me nah seh no).  I like places with linens (preferably white) and silverware. Since watching Food Inc. , a documentary on the industrialization of food in America, I am making more of an effort than ever to be a locavore in my purchasing and eating habits. I’m not exclusively this way, but where I can, I do want to support local industry, know where my food is coming from, and have asked on occasion. Growing up in Jamaica, it wasn’t ever really difficult to know where what you were eating came from. We knew di man dem whe grow di chicken, cow, goat, and pig, the butchers who processed the meat, the farmers who grew the produce, and the fishermen who caught the sea stuff. In many ways I began to take not needing to think about this for granted. It was an unsettling moment to realize I had become ignorant of where the food I was buying for my home came from and actually didn’t seem to care to know.

After seeing Food Inc. though, this knowledge is becoming critical. I want to know if my meat comes from places that rear and process animals humanely and ethically. This is easy in Mid Missouri because of places like Show Me Farms and seasonal farmers markets. Counterparts in South Florida would be Bee Heaven Farms or Redlands Organics who operate on a pre-reserved share basis (another future post perhaps?). One thing I now make very few exceptions to is actively refusing to buy particular brands of chicken. I also will not buy beef that is solely corn fed.   Cows eat grass people; being herbivores doesn’t mean will eat anything that grows – they aren’t goats. They should graze in pastures and have some GRASS in their diets. I want to know which farms are responsible for my produce and what their cultivation practices are. Where I can afford it, I try to buy organic for my home consumption. Dining out is a whole other ball game, but it does make it easier to find out who supplies when it’s a small independent establishment. Food Inc. comes out in a theatre near you in June so, go see it. But I’ve strayed again don’t it?

So back to the date argument, the selection of non-major chain establishment is a plus and if it is supplied by local producers, even better. If I am given the power to chose, and I choose say, Sushi Rock Cafe on Miami Beach, which he might have never tried, cuz ‘im nuh really touch di raw fish bizniz, another way to impress me is to bravely try anything I might suggest. Now, I’m not way out there, and have only just worked my way up to sashimi myself, so it wouldn’t be like dining with Andrew Zimmern for an episode of Bizarre Foods . A willingness to try the unfamiliar though is one of the things that is endearing to me.  So even if I have to select the spot, cool points can be gained for a willing, adventurous, and curious palate. Of course it goes without saying a comparable enthusiasm for food would also be delightful.

On the flip side though, I should probably confess that it puts me off slightly to make the where we should eat decision for a date. There is a side of me that feels enough thought isn’t being put into it, and passing the decision on to me is just too easy, possibly lazy.  Initiative is key. Of course, I know there are those among you who are thinking “but Sheri, wha bout if di bredda jus’ intimidated by you and nuh waa mek a bad choice and risk you not being impressed?” (I’ve been told that I am intimidating and more recently that I can be scary – go figure).  For those of you who empathize with my scared and intimidated would-be suitors, this is the kind of decision he should seek help for – initiative it’s called. I also like this quality in students. If you like him enough though, and if he asks, give him the gift of being steered in the direction of what you might consider to be a Sheri approved eatery. Such consultation shows initiative on his part and the one thing that is most important to me in these matters: consideration.  Lack of consideration in one area might mean the same in others. See how complex a little meal can be and we don’t even talk bout whe de pon di menu yet (pun intended? Maybe). Remember though, even if there is no pre-dinner consult, and I make the decision, being curious and possibly adventurous might tip the balance back into his favor.

Perhaps these and many other ever-developing peculiarities are why I hardly ever even think the words in the title of this post. Nonetheless, belly will always wan’ full, and an appetite for all things delicious perpetually rages.  As long as it eat good, mi di deh pon mi teet!

Sheri’s Bread Pudding

I am well aware of the audaciousness of putting your name in front of a recipe like you are some kind of Food Network star, but this recipe is one of only a few recipes that I can call my own. I cook a lot from other people’s recipes. Like my approach to personal service providers and products (manicurists, eyebrows, etc) if I find a good one, I stick to it. If it aint broke, I don’t need to invest any time fixing it. Awhile back though, I was making bread pudding from Traditional Jamaican Cookery  by Norma Benghiat. As I mentioned on Nix’s facebook, this one along with Enid Donaldson’s The Real Taste of Jamaica  are my Old and New Testaments of Jamaican cooking.

So when I wanted bread pudding couple years ago, I pulled out the two books, decided on Benghiat and went about baking. Don’t quite remember why I made the modifications I did (I almost never stray from the recipes when baking), but at the end of the process, I had a bread pudding that I can call mine. To give credit where credit is due though, I always start with Benghiat recipe on page 146, but I substitute the water for more coconut milk and add sliced almonds – and that my friends is how it becomes Sheri’s bread pudding. If you ever made one the way I’ll outline below, and one outlined in the book, you mout will know the difference. A few tips: almost any bread will do, but when I can get it, I use hardough. When I cant get hardough bread (usually when I am home in Missouri, I use French bread). Either way, mek sure it likkle stale. I mostly use Yummy bread, and one loaf is typically one pound.

½ lb bread

2-2½ cups of coconut milk (two cans, enough to saturate the bread)

1/3-cup raisins

1/3 cup sliced almonds

1-teaspoon vanilla

¼ teaspoons nutmeg

Approx. 1-cup sugar (sweeten to your taste)

2 eggs beaten

Break bread into small pieces and soak in coconut milk in a large bowl. Soak bread until fully saturated (I let it sit for 30-60 minutes). Break up any remaining lumps; add raisins, almonds, vanilla, nutmeg, and sugar to taste. Add the beaten eggs after you have sweetened to your liking. Pour mixture into a greased baking dish (I like Pam for Baking ) and bake at 350°F, 180°C degrees for one hour or until set.

The folks in Lisa’s office love it and as soon as they hear I am in town, they always request one. When you mek it, mek mi know if it eat good you hear!

My Steady 3

So as much as I love to eat, I also love to cook. More often than not when I need to think or relax, I will cook or bake. I reserve my experimentation with things I don’t typically make for these occasions. I get focused on making, shift my attention to the preparation process, and also decompress mentally.  Works every time and as bonus I always have something delicious and new to eat at the end of it all.

This post isn’t for such therapeutic delights however, but instead for 3 of the simple things that are the “mi nuh really know whe mi waa eat” meals that will hit the spot, can store in the freezer, and most importantly full yu belly. As some of you know I try to cook for the week  on Sundays.  After long days at work that end with an additional trying hour in the gym, the last thing that I want to do is make myself dinner – nevamind dat mi coulda eat a horse after spinning. These are the times when one of these yummies save me.  Reheated, for the most part, they taste just as good and sometimes better than Sunday night, since they have had time to sit and marinate even more. Point and click di names fi di recipe, mi hyperlink dem! So here goes, my steady 3:

Turkey Meatloaf 

This one always, ALWAYS lick di spot. I always tend to do slight modifications when I cook from recipes and this one is no exception. I usually half the recipe and add a stalk or two of celery and a carrot to the onions (all chopped). The next time I make it, I think I might substitute the ketchup with barbeque sauce, you know, just to shake things up a bit. I could also say that lean minced turkey, with the added veggies is super healthy for all of us working on the back to sexy track. But at the end of the day what matters here is that this meatloaf is delicious, even after its been sitting in the freezer for weeks.

Chinese Roasted Chicken

It’s about a week or two to end a month, and tings a start fi get way too tight fi dine or even order out. If you are like me it is precisely di bruk pocket period that you always want something whe taste nice to eat. This chicken is quick (minus marinating time), easy, and a sure fix for that craving for something a little different tasting. I promise you, between the five spice, ginger, and honey, big session a go gwaan inna you mout!

Curry Chicken Pot Pie

It’s what for dinner tonight. Alli B (likkle sista) and Lisa will hopefully weigh in. Potpie wasn’t really a staple in any of my many homes, but I did ketch a craving for it a couple weeks back, went searching and this one caught my eye. A tip when recipe shopping, which goes without saying, is that you should always read the reviews – very helpful in many ways. Last count there were 151 reviews of this one so you can tell right away its a hit, so try it.  I’m thinking of using chick peas instead of chicken next time. Alli B claims to be vegetarian now and we shall try to work wid her as much as we can. And the leftovers? Package in single serving squares, wrap in foil and freeze. Reheat slowly (maybe at 325), mi nuh know fi how long, but reheat as long as you woulda do for frozen lasagna.  Also, in the last 5-10 minutes, open up the foil a little bit to crisp up the top again. It wi eat good. Trust me.

Buena Vista Bistro

4582 NE Second Ave., Miami; 305-456-5909. Dinner Monday 5 p.m. to midnight. Lunch and dinner Tuesday through Sunday 11:30 a.m. to midnight

 “… it looks like fancy feast.”

This is what my friend Frances said of the picture of my tuna tatare, that I posted to Facebook today. That it does, and nuh feel no way, I wax it off jus like di Persian kitty in the commercial. Semi-gross references to cat food aside, this little place is one of my favorite Miami spots for so many reasons. Parisian expat owned, the décor is simple, and unpretentious. Ambiance is relaxed and laid back – of course. The wait staff is super pleasant, friendly, and obliging. The wine, ample – even if you can’t decide, tell your waiter what you like and he/she will come back with something perfect. Today we had an exquisite sparking white wine, not too dry, slightly sweet. Just the way I like it. It sweet me so much mi figat fi ask di name! Most importantly though, is the food. For the uber-sophisticated among us, this place has none of the flash and polish of some of its more ritzy (and pricey) counterparts. I know Kevin and Devina were thinking, “wha da place ya Sheri a carry we come eat?”

Back up a little bit to our first time at the Buena Vista Bistro though– and by our, I mean Lisa and I. Lisa is my tutor in all things fabulous. She has guided me in the infusion of fabulousity in all areas of my life, from closet to palate. Thanks to the Tanya plan, most of this fabulousity occurs on a budget. But I digress. Back to Buena Vista Bistro. We stumbled on it a little under two years ago when we decided to have dinner at the French/Caribbean place that used to be in the same location (really delicious too but alas, now very gone). It was quite the disappointment to find that this place was no longer there, but always up for a food adventure (one day I will tell you about the hunt for the 441 pan chicken man), we decided to stay and have dinner at this new place. Head a gather wata inna mi old age, so I don’t remember what our main courses were exactly  – but the homemade duck pâté with cornichons has left an indelible mark on the food center of my brain. You just have to try it. Fast-forward to today, everything is as it was on our first visit. Delightful and delicious. The only difference was on our first night there, Lisa and I were the only diners, and there was another gentleman drinking wine and chatting with the owners, who also kick in with the service from time to time. Today, as the clock wound past 5pm, little “reserved” cards kept popping up on tables. By the time we left, ours was the only table that was not already reserved. Translation – after 6, you might be hard-pressed to get immediate seating.  This is a popular little spot.

My favorite thing today – the fancy feast-esque tuna tartare, which was topped with a seaweed salad and even had a likkle touch of balsamic vinegar splashed on the plate. I crave super fresh seafood when I am in Missouri (I think it’s the whole landlocked thing) and dis likkle plate hit da spot. Everything is made fresh to order, and the menu specials change depending on what they decide to cook that day. There are a couple staples like the aforementioned pâté and the Lisa recommended curry chicken. If super delicious appetizers and main courses aren’t enticing enough, the dessert is also homemade. Today we had chocolate mousse and apple pie (we even ordered seconds of the pie with another round of that very delicious wine).

Price? Reasonable. I didn’t see anything on the board today that was over $20. Give it a try, it will eat good. Trust me.