Hits the Zot

Philadelphians have always been fans of Belgian-style cafe/bars that specialize in mile-long beer lists and serve up mussels and frites regardless of the last letter of the month. Monks enjoys a following that rivals that of our beloved sports teams, and unfortunately the lines and crowds to prove it. The aptly yet less creatively named Belgian Cafe, on my favorite lane and former home Green Street, boasts a Monks-style menu minus the mania- but minus some of the atmosphere as well. And Eulogy, well, I'd love to comment on it and I think I managed to squeeze in one time a few years ago, but...its in Old City. Enough said.

And then there's Zot. Just laid back enough to be a bar, but just classy enough to be a restaurant. When I arrived here I felt like Goldilocks - I had finally found the place that was "Juuuuust Riiiiiggght." You know how you'd always like to take out-of-town guests to a Philly classic like Monks but you just can't because it's sure to be a mob scene and impossible to get a table? Well Zot offers the ideal alternative. With every kind of mussels you can imagine (and a few you can't believe would taste good - I think one option included chocolate), a beer list the size of a dictionary, and a significantly more comfortable space than its Rittenhouse rival, Zot is sure to please. My only negative was the limited choices of beers on tap. But as long as one is a Belgian wheat, this girl is happy.

Zot
2nd & Lombard
www.zotrestaurant.com

Olive branch

Whoops. OK. So a little while back I wrote a scathing blog about DJ Deejay. He found it, explained himself and apologized. You can read that here. 

So I will accept this apology and will go further than that, I'll attend this Friday's MMP on the boat. Well not so much to make peace as I feel the strong urge to shake my shit. 

Let's do this. 

Extraordinary Blooming Restaurant

A very nice person at my office has been raving about Apamate for many months, so when my husband said he tengo tapas, I took the opportunity to experience it for myself. And as its name suggests (explained on the restaurant's website) this narrow crimson cafe named for a Venezeulan tree does stand out in its own way.

Blink and you will pass right by this unassuming storefront, noted only by thin vertical strands of red lights illuminating the large square window facing South Street. Enter to the sounds of Manu Chao and Buena Vista Social Club just over the din of the front-of-the-shop kitchen, and your eyes gaze from the dark wood furniture, to the deep red walls, to the Spanish tile countertop and the chocolate caliente mixer, reminding you to save room for churros.

The waitstaff are helpful and informed, happy to make recommendations on not only what to eat but how to eat it. Apamate serves small and large plates along with a laundry list of tapas. Only here they are called "pintxos," which is either a ploy to separate itself from the growing glut of tapas restaurants throughout the city, or a subliminal semantic trick to further remind its patrons that these plates are, in fact, teeny tiny "pinches" of food.

We plowed through 3 or 4 pintxos, in addition to the serrano ham and bechamel croquettes and an a seafood paella entree. The ingredients were fresh and organic, the flavors were authentic and robust, and the meal was affordable - borderline cheap. We saved room for churros, as did a few other parties who came through just to order dessert. And when the server accidentally brought us the wrong dish (dulce de leche instead of Nutella, really neither is wrong!), they corrected the mistake by giving us the right one on the house. Now that's class.

Cafe Apamate
1620 South Street
215.790.1620
www.cafeapamate.com

La isla bonita

OK Operation Me Time is progressing swimmingly. If you need a refresher, this includes going to the gym, keeping organizedish surroundings, and daily shaving of my unmentionables even without promise of anyone seeing them. Trust me, this is a big feat for me. And my pants are a whole lot roomier, I'm pretty sure it's not because of the gym. I figure I'd take the field of dreams mentality of dating. "If you ladyscape it, they will come."

But I can't complain. Love life aside, everything is going pretty damned well. I got a promotion. Huzzah! And moved into a little office. I feel aaaall growed up.

Last weekend I did some celebrating and I have to say I was so very upset. My latest haunt, Silk City, has officially been ruined for me. We had kind of become obsessed. It was our old school L'Etage. You know, before everyone and their turdish friends found out about it and you could move without elbowing a wannabe hipster in the face? Well that's what Silk City meant to me. No cover, no wait and all the Madonna, Michael and Prince you could shake your shit to. We knew it was just a matter of time before word got around. And how! When we went on Sat, there was a wall of people front to back. My first task was to pee (due to excessive pregaming). Big mistake. The light was out and I had to feel my way around. I haven't been walking right since.

On the verge of a body-heat induced panic attack, my crowd and I bolted after 15 mins went to the 700 club. It had been a while since we'd been there. Mainly because Saturday DJ, as good as he is, smells like a hippie corpse that has been rotting on that bathroom toilet for months. DJ Stank aside, we had fun. I gave some dude my number even though he had a chodey hat on and he kept insisting that I was born in Spain. But he was kinda cute, friend approved, and he called me yest and asked me out for a drink. I will try fit into the pre-drink convos that there will be no train driving, so he can leave the conductor hat at home. And if you're wondering. Yes, it hurts to be this judgmental. But it hurts so good.

Meet You at the Diner!

As a native Long Islander, I consider myself somewhat of a connoisseur of the American diner. In fact, I truly love them. I grew up with a diner on every corner. After every high school evening out, we headed to the local diner. God knows we were tired and hungry from the hours of aimlessly driving around. It was a who's who of the Wantagh Social Scene. Fast forward 10 years and I am a girl about Philly, in constant search of the perfect diner.

Living in Center City, I find my diner options are slim. While I know that Philly has some of the best restaurants around, sometimes a girl just needs a greasy meal. Rittenhouse Square's Little Pete's (219 South 17th Street) is tiny, but it gets props for being open 24 hours, making drunken nights all the better. University City's Philly Diner (3925 Walnut Street) may be the worst diner I've ever visited. Packed with Penn kids and locals, I excitedly ordered a platter of cheese fries. Imagine my disappointment when they served me a small portion of microwaved American Cheese fries. I think I left in tears. Do not waste your time at this place under any circumstance.

The newly vamped, Northern Liberties hot spot Silk City Diner (435 Spring Garden Street) is too trendy to be a diner in my expert opinion. It is delicious but not super cheap. They offer plenty of fancy drinks, making this an ideal place for a girl's night out. South Philly's famed Penrose Diner (2016 Penrose Avenue) has some of the most spectacular people watching that you could ever imagine. A Friday night in the heart of South Philly will provide hours of conversation for your table.

Finally, my top rated diner choice is Bella Vista's Morning Glory Diner (735 South 10th Street). The hours are terrible and the servers aren't overly friendly, but it is a wonderful brunch spot if you can withstand a bit of a wait. Be sure to try the homemade ketchup.

Support diners- an American institution. Ben Franklin would have wanted it that way.

I over think therefore I am single

I haven't written anything for a while 'cause I thought maybe I was jinxing myself by documenting every dating happening in my life (I'm nuts, I've already told you that.) Since I spoke to you last there have been some developments. Mostly, I've come to realize that I'm a terrible dater. I'm awkward and I have no filter (when I came back from the bathroom one time- which had taken so long due to the fact that there was a line-I said "Don't worry, I didn't poop.") Backtracking. A few weeks ago, I went to this advertising party and it was an overall success. There was a bevy of hot men, which was quite the relief since I had all about given up on Philly's supply of single non-douchebags. Apparently I was pretty smooth that night. "Smooth" being a relative term. I met a really cute guy and forced my number upon him. I was a little hazy on the details the next day. Note that I had been calling him the wrong name all night. So I was expecting to never hear from him again. Big whoop. I couldn't pick him out of a line up, anyway. To my surprise, I got a text the next day asking me out. Holler. So we went out last week and it was great. He's older than the guys I normally go out with, which is a good thing. What's the problem, then? I CAN'T STOP OVER THINKING. When I'm hanging out with him all I can think is, Would my parents like him? What if my friends think he's a tool? Is he hairy? What's wrong with him that he doesn't have a girlfriend? When do I have to pretend to reach for the check? What if he lets me? Will it be awkward when my credit card is declined and I start crying?

That, piled with my complete stress with dating etiquette, culminated last night into the worst possible ending of a second date. I gave him a side hug. UUUUUUUGH. This guy is probably so confused. A chick that made a b-line for him at a party and said "I wouldn't be mad at you if you asked for my phone number" and the most she can muster up is a SIDE HUG. He even said "side hug?" In my defense is was a long (albeit good) date. We went to Fork, then Sugar moms then to a movie. But it was probably the worst date movie ever. We saw Gone, baby, Gone. Nothing gets me randy like a good baby killing movie. Anyway. Well see where it goes. Either he'll assume disinterest or he's still into it. We're supposed to go out sat. I'll keep ya posted.

Maybe this time we can read Angela's Ashes to each other and talk about our worst childhood memories.

The Big O

Last Tuesday, I turned 30. On the 30th. Big birthday! And to mark that special occasion my husband gave me something that I really needed. Something to make me feel great, to relax, to engage all the senses and release all anxiety.

A really good meal.

Osteria has has enjoyed a lot of buzz since its opening by virtue of its owner, Marc Vetri, whose reputation in the Philly foodie community would allow him to open a hot dog cart and receive a five star rating. He took a chance on an up-and-coming North Broad location (walking distance from our house, added bonus) and the Vetri appeal has lured even the most uptight of Main Line moms and Rittenhouse royals across the great Spring Garden Street divide. His reputation made them step out of their comfort zone, but its the food that keeps them coming back.

The weather has just turned officially Fall-like and the reclaimed wood, deep orange hues and warm lighting makes Osteria an ideal locale for this time of year. The food was hearty yet light, flavorful yet simple. In honor of the house specialty, I too stepped out of my comfort zone and into the world of cured meats. Happy I did. We also sampled the "cruda," which could be described as sushi Italian-style - yellowtail strips marinated in olive oil and spices. But the highlight of our meal had to be my entree, the everyday lobster and homemade pasta special. Absolute perfection.

Our waitress was helpful and friendly, which proved especially important here because there are numerous Italian words on the menu that were unfamiliar, particularly with the dolci (desserts). She was able to explain everything clearly and give recommendations based on your preference for sweets and flavors. So bravo, Marc Vetri, for bringing this oasis to North Broad. Fairmounters thank you.

Osteria, 640 North Broad St.
215.763.0920
www.osteriaphilly.com

See It!

Philly's movie scene is growing by the minute! Not only is "Lovely Bones" kicking off this week in the 'burbs (sorry Colleen! I am sure Ryan will find you some day), but "Bella," a locally produced and financed independent film that is winning awards left and right, makes its debut this weekend.

Bella is a heartwarming story about life, family, and our capacity for love in the face of the unexpected. It has a beautiful cast (hello Eduardo Verastegui!) and an even more beautiful message about relationships, redemption, and the power of the human spirit. It lives in good company as a Toronto Film Festival People's Choice Award Winner, with the likes of Hotel Rwanda, Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon, and my personal favorite, Life is Beautiful.

Bella is only around for 2 weeks and is in very limited locations. Check out the theater options at http://www.bellathemovie.com/.

Achoo

Pardon my lack of coherence in this one, as my head has been completely consumed by the temperamental bitch that is the flu. Maybe it's of the bird variety. Being that I've already created a sizable dent on my couch and have gone through every program I dvred in the past year, I've decided to be productive. So, I've picked up my bag of dirty tissues and moved the 4 feet to the computer. Annnd I'm spend.

So, I had my date with the guy from grade school the other night (no he's not in actually in grade school, I went to grade school with him and reconnected through intensive MyStalking). We went for a drink after work (which turned into 3, which then turned into 5, which turned into a blur-- I think at one point we started playing quarters at the table) at The Black Sheep. This one was interesting because I knew him, but hadn't seen him since 5th grade. I mean, my taste has changed a little since my youth. Back then my turn ons included, but were not limited to, pinching and hair pulling. Hmmm, on second thought maybe I haven't changed all that much.

All in all, it was a good date. We laughed a whole lot. Reminisced about the time I kicked him in the balls in the recess yard and he told me that my nickname used to be spewie, which I was unaware of (I had a slight problem with motion sicknessback then). The beauty of this date was that there was no awkwardness. So I'd def go out with him again. Not sure if there was any spark though. That's what I'm going to be looking for in dates to come, but I'm not 100% convinced sparks actually happen.
So he emailed the next day, and asked to go out again. I think I will.

Total sneezes while writing post: 6
OK enough of this productivity nonsense. I'm too sick to think. I'm gonna go take drugs. Lots of drugs. Bring on the drugs.

I Heart the Mojito

Nothing says breezy summer night like a yummy mojito. I love them. However, they're labor intensive drinks- drinks I would never prepare for myself at home. In fact, I'm really only capable of pouring wine at home and even then it's a challenge. I used to dream about a whole bar dedicated to the mojito. (I know that some people dream about world peace. Don't judge.) You can imagine how pleased I was when the Rum Bar opened just a few blocks from my apartment.

I have ventured in to the Rum Bar a few times and have never had to fight for a seat. It's the perfect spot to go for a pre/post dinner drink. The bartenders are assertive, friendly and know exactly how to make a drink. There are an incredible amount of premium rums available. It's kind of intense. I didn't know rum could be so complicated. Granted, until very recently, I did associate rum with the Malibu crap we used to drink in college. Along with the nearly 10 different kinds of mojitos on the menu, there are all of the standard bar drinks too.

Whether your looking for the perfect date spot or night out with the girls, the Rum Bar won't disappoint.

The Rum Bar

2005 Walnut St. Philadelphia, PA 19103

www.rumbarphilly.com

Restaurant week, why do you mock me so?

Last night, as I lugged my bags of dirty laundry in my left hand and detergent in my right, I passed young couples in love dining outdoors and came to a realization. I have clean underwear now and they don't. They will waste a lovely Sunday day/ evening, sorting their lights from darks, while I sip wine at the Wine, Arts and Food festival at the Mann. I think it's a fair trade.

Anyway. This week is chock full of Philly happenings. I'm plan on enjoying them with friends, but will make an effort to strike up a slightly intoxicated convo with choice passersby. My first date with the Italian taught me that talking to new people is fun, and to just be open to it. It doesn't have to be awkward and painful. (oh, I think we're going to try for a second). Tomorrow night I'm going to the Inliquid Silent Auction with some people from work. Art + open bar = many emo men just waiting for my shameless flirting. To give me an edge, I'm thinking of wearing my beret , black turtleneck and painting on a little goatee. Friday, my sister and I are going out for a chick night of shopping, drinks and pampering at Shecky's girls night out. Word is I can get some free jawn there. Saturday is Oktoberfest and Madonna Michael Prince at the M room. Ohhh that sounds like a little slice of heaven, doesn't it? Aaaaaand I just realized I should just go ahead and marry a gay man.

In other news, I'm very proud of myself. Kind of. Putting myself Out There is stressful. And this week I regressed back to being a 13 year old girl. Back story: When I get in from nights on the town, MySpace is not my friend. I contact anyone and everyone I have come in contact within the past 10-12 years. One poor unfortunate soul wrote me back. We emailed back and forth, but in all honesty, I hadn't talked to him since grade school. He gave me his phone # via email and told me to call him for a good time. Megan told me I had to. Even though this could be (and probably is) purely platonic, it was very hard for me to take that leap from Myspace stalking to real life interaction. So Monday night after a glass of wine, I did it. I picked up the phone and... left him a voicemail. Did you know you can do that? Yes, from your voicemail you can leave someone else a voicemail without them ever knowing. God, I'm good at being crazy. I was planning on saying "Oh, it just went straight to voicemail", but when I called it turns out he was asleep and just assumed he missed me. Long story short, he called back last night and we're gonna get together for a drink next week. Should be fun to catch up.

Wow, that was a whole lot of rambling. Good day.

School for the Sweet Tooth

Have you ever had the feeling that maybe, just maybe, you've eaten enough cake?

ME NEITHER.

I have now been eating cake every night for around four nights, and though I know you'd like to hear this is part of a revolutionary diet I heard about from Oprah I won't lie. This regime is purely an effort to polish off a cake from the The Restaurant School because under no circumstances shall any cake be put in the bin under my roof. I will finish the beast no matter how my belly protests.

You see, two cakes were bought last week for a 50th birthday for a total cost of around $25. TWO ENORMOUS CAKES!! All thanks to students of the pastry arts. Luckily, other people showed some moderation and the plentiful leftovers are what I'm working on now. I think this work is going pretty well.

I will say, the cake is not terribly beautiful but they do have some more specialty fare if that's what you're looking for. If, however, you need to feed a throng of children or a throng of grown ups for that matter on the cheap but a big cake is what you're looking for I think this is a good spot. The icing was a wee bit sweet but the cake itself was moist and chocolatey and... well, I might just go have a little added taste just to check that it's still that good. The students will also be so kind as to write anything on the cake you'd like, such as "THIS IS MEREDITH'S CAKE DO NOT TOUCH MY CAKE DO YOU HEAR ME!"

Now if anyone else has advice on coping with sugar withdrawl, please kindly forward it to me because my come down is going to be messy.

The Pastry Shop at The Restaurant School at Walnut Hill College
215.222.4200
Open daily Monday - Saturday 7:30am - 6:00pm
4207 Walnut Street

www.therestaurantschool.com/

New Colleen 1: Dating 0.

The first date (cue ominous music)...

How we met. We have mutual friends, but didn't know each other. He saw my profile on one of said friend's MySpace and got my IM. Ahhh, cyber dating. Old Colleen would have said "no", simply because he's not my usual type. See, I tend to err towards hipster and this guy's more of a Soprano (key differentiator, one showers the other doesn't). But New Colleen was into it. He suggested Tequila's and won me over immediately. Allow me to digress, when I went on my last actual date (there was snow on the ground) the guy took me to Mad Mex in University City. Don't get me wrong, it's perfect for its famous "Big Azz Margaritas" but not so great for a romantic afternoon date. I was carded by the hostess. The fact Gotti and I were going to an actual grown-up place was refreshing.

Preparation. This was tough. I shaved my right leg, thought better of it so when it came to my left I only shaved from the knee down (there had been proper maintenance up to this point so it didn't affect my balance). Megan vetoed my normal comfy/ cute outfit choices and made me break out the big guns, New Years Eve shirt '07. After my Pre-date glass of wine, we met at my street and walked over. The restaurant was everything I hoped it would be. The food was delicious, for the appetizer we had Queso Fundido (melted cheese with meat on top that you put in a tortilla... mmm cheese), and for the main course Cochinita Pibil (pork... mmm meat). For drinks I went with 2 mojitos (mmmm liquid courage).

Overall the conversation flowed easily. I gathered he was a little nervous because he went on a few tangents, then asked if he was talking too much (I think it was around the 10th time i said "right" and nodded my head). But I would take that over awkward silence any day. Apparently everything I did was "adorable" from my apathy for sports to my dumb joke about bringing a doggie bag home for the cats (Yes, I said cats. Plural. Don't judge.) My favorite quote of the night would have to be when he said "Yeah, I'm emotional and sentimental and all that shit." After said date he walked me home and didn't try to kiss me, which was admittedly a relief (baby steps). But I didn't want him to think I had a bad time, so I actually said "Let's hug it out". Yes. I said that out loud.

Anyway. First date was an overall success. This weekend, I'm going to West Chester to visit my girls. Let's see what tasty nuggets the burbs have to offer.

www.tequilasphilly.com

1602 Locust Street

Te Quiero Mucho

When I think of things that I love in life: I think of friends, family, pets, clothes, and wine, but mostly, I think of guacomole. Good guacomole makes everything better. In fact, I know that I could eat chips and guac each and every day for the rest of my life and be totally fine, if a little green in complexion.

Imagine my excitement when I recently had the pleasure of dining at Molcajete Mixto in South Philadelphia. I was already enthusiastic as it's "bring your own tequila"so they can make you any fruit flavored margarita your heart desires. You can also bring your own wine for homemade sangria. Ok back to the guacomole! It was creamy, flavorful, and delicious! I highly recommend it. After I finished that off, I dug in to my entree, Tilapia a la Veracruzana which was equally fabulous. I was stuffed to the point where I may have had to "OP"- as in open pants button. Ladylike and necessary.

All in all, it was a great evening. The menu is reasonable and the ambiance is super cute. The choices are vast and the service was exceptional. I will definitely be back.

www.molcajetemixto.com
746 Christian St. Philadelphia, PA

A True Belly Dance

Many Philly BYO restaurants are of the Italian, Meditteranean, or neo-American cuisine. But if you are looking for something with a little twist, take the advice put forth in the 70's by Crosby, Stills & Nash: take a ride on the Marrakesh Express.

Marrakesh is an experience from the moment you open the door, partly because you can't open the door, you must ring the bell first. You are then greeted by a brooding gentleman in a traditional tunic, who my fiance described as "The Morrocan Elvis" (although I must qualify this statement, as he has an uncanny ability to relate just about anyone back to the King).

Once through, Elvis leads you to your banquette with plush pillowed seats and low gold engraved tables. My personal experience was with a large group - about 12 people - so we were given a private room upstairs. Once we had our hands properly cleaned and bathroom towels protecting our clothes (no joke - napkins are no match for this hands-on meal), we each grabbed a heaping helping of nan-style bread from a snake charmer woven basket, and ate and ate and ate, seven fabulous courses of fresh, authentic Morrocan cuisine.

There's no menu at Marrakesh, although a few of the courses do offer a choice between spicy or non, or beef or veal. Please don't go with picky eaters - while all the courses are simple, consisting mainly of vegetables, meat, and cous-cous, there's no substitutions and it is somewhat unclear exactly what else is in the mix. But that's part of the fun! And just when you think you couldn't possibly take another bite, they round out the meal with fruit, baklava, and mint tea.

Marrakesh is ideal for a large party and for people who want a memorable experience, not just a meal. And unlike many BYOs, they accept reservations. What they don't accept is credit cards, so come with cash. As you may imagine, finishing off seven courses takes some time, so don't make this a pre-theater dinner or plan on a grabbing a quick bite here. It's an event, which on weekends even includes belly dancers for table-side entertainment. So when you have the time and want a little something extraordinary, ring the bell at Marrakesh.

Marrakesh, 517 Leithgow Street, 215.925.5929

Melogra-no-no

Melograno has emerged as one of Philly's favorite BYOs. Not an easy feat considering the shear volume of competitors in our fair city. It has definitely made the list of my personal favorites in the past - an atmosphere that has that special something - that 'je ne sais quoi'. Love the space with its floor-to-ceiling windows, open kitchen, red berry garland and minimalist sunflower arrangements. European waiters with thick accents and charming smiles. And the food, oh the food - my kind of perfection. Light, simple and flavorful.

So you can imagine my dismay at having to be the bearer of bad news from my most recent visit there on a cold Wednesday night. I understand that Melograno has received a lot of praise, great press and enjoys a constant buzz of traffic night in and night out. And it is certainly worthy of its success. But that is no reason to be rude to your patrons. No way. Unacceptable. So I politely ask the Melograno staff to sit back, take a deep breath, and quietly step down off your high horses. It is your privilege to enjoy our patronage, not the other way around. Make us feel welcome, not like you are doing us a huge favor by allowing us to have a table. Philly folk don't like snobs, not even in Rittenhouse.

That said, I'm not sure that even a snooty hostess will be enough to keep me away from the portabello with pine nuts and goat cheese or the branzino and garlic mashed. It really is that good.

Melograno, 2201 Spruce Street

215.875.8116

Your Friendly Neighborhood Pub

After a long holiday hiatus filled with family obligations, international travel, and a few unfortunate cases of the flu, your girls about philly are getting back to blogging. And what better place to start on a stark winter's day than with a profile of one of Philly's warmest neighborhood pubs, McCrossen's Tavern.

McCrossen's is a family-owned operation with a storied history of pride, struggle, and the American dream. The building itself, built in 1852, has been everything from an immigrant shelter to a floral shop, and the McCrossens themselves even called the upstairs home back in the 1930s. Today it is a favorite neighborhood spot for Fairmounters looking for a well-poured pint and a homestyle meal.

McCrossen's is a great spot at any time of year, but its old world charm and warmth is particularly enjoyable in the winter months. The staff are friendly and attentive even when the place is packed, and it is obvious that they enjoy the company of their many regular customers. So next time you're in the mood for a hearty bowl of french onion soup and a smooth stoudt, head 'round the corner to McCrossen's.

McCrossen's Tavern, 529 N. 20th St., 215.845.0923

www.mccrossens.com

Far East Feeding Frenzy

Like in most major US cities, Philly's Chinatown is like stepping into another world. It has its own pulse, a heartbeat that seems to race faster than the rest of the city. Maybe it's the MSG.

China-town probably isn't an accurate description of the area, as the influences span the entire Far East, from Chinese, to Thai, to Indonesian and my most recent food exploration, Malaysian. But I guess the Chinese get the recognition, maybe because they were first to arrive on US soil? I'll have to research that one.

Choosing a restaurant in Chinatown can be intimidating, as there are so many that look alike and offer similar menus. But on a friend's recommendation we discovered Penang, a pearl of the east right here in our little corner of the western world. Penang offers an exploration of the culinary delights of Southeast Asia, which incorporates a diverse variety of flavors, spices, meats, veggies, and seafood. There are even a few items that are so unusual and authentic that they note on the menu for patrons to please "ask advice" before ordering.

Penang has locations in other cities, and I got the impression from my fellow diner who had been to the DC outpost that Philly's disappointed a bit in the atmosphere department. But upon second glance we all decided we quite liked the rustic decor, which was designed to invoke the traditional street-side vendors of the restaurant's namesake Malaysian state. And as a cash-only operation, it didn't hurt that the prices were not that much higher than one would find in the street stalls either!

Penang, 117 N. 10th St., 215-413-2531
www.penangusa.com

Sing City

Karaoke. What is it about karaoke that makes people crazy? You're either obsessed or scared to death. There's really very little in between. Those who have a nice singing voice but are not quite good enough to do anything useful with it are most susceptible to the calling of this psuedo-performance. Some people take it very seriously. Almost sport-like. There's an unspoken sense of competition, like you have to one-up the guy that went before you. Or someone in the crowd decides you suck and wants to one-up you with a mind-blowing rendition of "We are the Champions."

I never thought of Philadelphia as a karaoke capital, but I recently discovered otherwise. With some friends in town for the Thanksgiving holiday, we headed to Fuji Mountain for a relaxing sushi dinner and a few Sapporos (I should note here that they offered this Japanese beer in 3 -yes - 3 different sizes, the 22 oz for those who really need to lube up before taking the mic). Fuji Mountain is a 4-story establishment with the sushi bar on the first floor, sake bar on the second, and the third and fourth devoted to cocktails and karaoke.

Fuji Mountain is the real deal, a chanteur's paradise devoted to the underappreciated art of televised accompaniment. When we'd had our fill of singing along with everyone from Elvis to TLC, we made our way to what we thought would be your typical Brit-style pub, Barristers. Little did we know that we would walk right into Wednesday night karaoke. It is everywhere. So get practicing - you could be up next.

Fuji Mountain, 2030 Chestnut St., 215-751-0939
www.fujimt.com
Barristers Bar & Grille, 1823 Sansom St., 215-496-0786
www.barristersbar.com

Wino Forever

Yes, I know this is my second Johnny Depp reference in less than one week...but it just worked, ok?

In keeping with my series on Philadelphia's BYO culture, and since Thursday is Thanksgiving and many folks will head to the homes of friends and family and may like to arrive bearing wine, I thought it a good time to mention a little helpful hint about purchasing wine in the Quaker state.

I'd venture a guess that many of you find it as frustrating as I do that when having a party, you need to make 3 stops - grocery store for food and mixers, beer distributor, and state store for wine and spirits. In other less back-asswards states, people can just hit their local Piggly Wiggly and get it all done in one fell swoop. Not to mention that in many cases these 3 necessary stops are located nowhere near each other! By the time you get done driving and shopping, you rush home to drown yourself in the recently purchased libations.

But there is one shining light in an otherwise dismal state of PA's liquor affairs - The Chairman's Selections. The Chairman's Selections are the PA Liquor Control Board's wayof saying, "We're sorry, loyal patrons and struggling restauranteurs, for being so anal." These are nice wines, (I'm no expert, but they've all gone down smooth so far), supposedly hand-chosen by the LCB Chairman himself (we're to assume he is an expert), available at deep discount prices. The selections change frequently, so there's always something new to try. I've seen $100.00 bottles offered at $49.99, $45.00 bottles for $20, $25.00 bottles for $10, and so on. They're usually displayed along with a nice explanation of the wine's body and flavor and a rating from Wine Spectator or another reputable reviewer. So stock up, it's going to be a long holiday season.

PA Wine and Spirits Shoppes, various locations

www.pawineandspirits.com