An Underground Secret Question

Within the long time frame of my absence from my readers, there has been a life-changing transition that has sent me into spirals of excitement, confusion, and novelty. Southern gentility has officially greeted the Wild West. A few months ago, I relocated from Birmingham, Alabama, to Albuquerque, New Mexico, to work at the Center for Integrated Nanotechnologies at Sandia National Laboratories. This move has been different to say the least, but one of the things that keeps me turning the page in anticipation are the new gastronomic experiences that await on my days off from work.

Since my arrival, I have found myself even more loaded down with research than I was in Birmingham, often trapped in the cold, empty laboratory patiently waiting on data to apply towards my thesis project. However, I occasionally am able to catch a breath of air and steal away to enjoy precious moments in the paradise of freedom.

Even though the Thanksgiving festivities are over, the memories linger. My best friend Moriah was gracious enough to travel all the way to Albuquerque this year to see me close to the holiday since I was resigned to be separated from my family on the day of feasting. At first, she suggested driving from Mississippi to New Mexico and back over a three-day window - insane, I know - but finally I convinced her to take the flights, despite the large amount of holiday traffic.

I wanted to dress up to go out. And by dress up, I mean in the rarely used banquet style dresses that hung in my closet like lonely spinsters. Why not, I asked Moriah. Who cares if we stood out? Why not let the world be your runway? So, with many nervous giggles, she acquiesced, much to the pleasure of her best friend.

She wore a deep blue, strapless dress that emphasized her porcelain shoulders and flaxen hair, while I donned a sparkling bright, red dress that perfectly matched the passion I felt for the evening. To satiate my readers' curiosity as well as confirm how radical I can in fact be, I have shared some photos that she and I captured in front of my newly decorated Christmas tree before leaving for dinner.

Vernon's Speakeasy in Albuquerque, NM

Taken from the restaurant Facebook profile

Where do I even begin? How do I start when the very essence of this restaurant is a secret? A secret I now share with my readers. 

When Moriah and I arrived late that evening, we looked around us. Nowhere was there to be found a sign, a postage, a hint for direction. Vernon's is themed to glimpse into history during the Prohibition Era when young men and women of different races sneaked away to the underground world where they could enjoy their taste of liquor. From what I have heard, the more restricted the access, the more eager people were to indulge. Though I do not care for the alcoholic beverage myself, this culinary experience brought much of the same feeling for me. The more I searched for this place and its hidden treasure, the more I could not wait to find it. 

Finally, she and I found the door under a bright red light. We knocked. We waited. A shutter in the door opened, and the man inside proceeded to ask for the password. Having been already given the password when I made the reservation, I proceeded to say "Fake Lou Artist." After confirming that we were indeed not members of any police force, the door opened. Once we were led inside, we stood in a small room and were given a spiel about the rules and regulations of the place. Subsequently affirming that we would in fact follow the rules, a door behind a bookcase was opened, and we were ushered into the candle-lit dining room where a warm fire burned in a fireplace in the corner.

Oh, this was such a delightful evening! I glanced over the menu and desperately struggled with my final decision. Everything on the list looked absolutely divine. How could I choose? For appetizer, I finally settled with the warm duck salad with spinach and arugula leaves drenched in a roasted shallot dressing. Not only was the duck meat as tender and juicy as any duck I had ever tasted in my life, but it was perfectly complimented with bacon bits, firm grape tomato halves, and whipped goat cheese. I do not know if I will ever again taste such luxury from this waterbird. With tears starting to well up in my eyes from such a grand burst of flavor, I looked over at Moriah who was enjoying her garden salad. One of the things I love about Moriah is her love sometimes for the most simple things of life. I did not quite understand why she would come to a place like this and settle for a dish she could find anywhere, but as her little lips pressed so cutely together to chew her spring vegetable mix and then shifted into a smile, I did not question. She was happy.

We then moved to the main course, where Moriah ordered the wild Canadian salmon bruschetta. She let me sample her dish, and it was delicious. I was a little confused by the pesto and goat cheese risotto cake that rested under the salmon, for it tasted a bit of crab. To this day, I am left confused but in the end all that matters is that it provided a tasteful encounter. That it did. Ironically, despite everything on the plate, Moriah's eyes lit up when she found herself most pleased with the balsamic reduction that was drizzled over the bruschetta toasts. It was the vinegar. Simple things. 

I gave her such a hard time during the meal, bless her heart, as she worried so much about embarrassing herself in using her utensils correctly. I tried to contain my teasing laughter when she would jump in her chair the minute her fork and knife would clank against the plate. She proceeded to explain how she felt more comfortable when her boyfriend took her to their local Taco Bell, a location to this day that I will not step foot in. So, for my sake, I thanked her for joining me on this formal adventure. I had ordered the 14 oz. boneless ribeye with the sides of parmesan crusted asparagus and whipped mashed potatoes, and I was enjoying it immensely. I took great pleasure in the flavors of my food, of the elegance of my table, and the romantic nature of my surroundings. It was a dream world in which I wanted to stay. 

Continuing to speak in low tones and laughing about memories from the past and memories that will be formed in the future, Moriah and I moved to dessert. To make sure Moriah got the most out of the evening, I let her pick dessert for us to share and she wisely landed on the chocolate decadence cake that was topped with a Bavarian creme. I enjoyed letting it settle with a side of decaf coffee. Chocolate was a perfect way to cover the after taste of the steak, and I am sure equally served its purpose in pairing with the salmon. 

It was a lovely evening. As Moriah and I drove home, she was breathing her sighs of relief from her release from the formality of it all (all of which I will never forget she endured for the sake of her best friend), and I kept thinking back to those last few flavors, those last tender feelings I embraced in that dimly lit room. Which is better? To live in the world always at ease, never disappointed with your circumstances? Or to live your life waiting and anticipating the high, treasuring those moments of emotion on a deeper level that some will never grasp? It has been the question of the age. I will leave it for my readers to decide.

Elegant Solitude of Style

I was in that mood. That mood to be alone.  I get hungry for moments of solitude, time to think about that week's events and replay all my fond memories of friendship. Ironic, isn't it? Begging for time alone to think about time with others. After work, I got home and freshened up. I slipped on a long, ankle-length black dress, one that hung loosely on my shoulders with thin straps. After brushing through my newly cut hair, angling the edges around the curve of my face, I adorned some small diamond earrings and painted a smooth layer of deep red lipstick across my lips. My black, 4-inch heels waited for me on the way out. With a slight twist to my lips, I grabbed my little black and gold clutch. And with a last glance into the body-length mirror hanging on the doorway wall, I thought to myself, "It's been a while."

I had made a reservation a bit earlier in the afternoon. It took a little over half an hour to arrive at the restaurant, so on the way I played the music of my beloved Michael Bublé, humming along to his version of "Feeling Good" from his 2005 album It's Time. The night was approaching. The sun was creeping its way down to the horizon by the time I pulled in for valet parking. What an interesting evening this would be!

Café Dupont - Birmingham, Al

Logo taken from restaurant Twitter account

The space was elegant. I walked in and already could tell there was structure in this dimly lit room, almost a sense of rigidity. They seated me at my small table next to the wall and quickly proceeded to provide the menu. I took a few moments deciding how adventurous I wanted to be. Choosing an appetizer and entree is not only a hard decision in that one must consider the blending of flavors between dishes, but one also does not want to overdo the eclecticism of style. Too much adventure is too rushed, too forced. To try something new with a small taste or to savor for only a brief moment allows for reflection and permits one to brand the memory.

I settled for something novel in my appetizer, choosing the cast iron-seared foie gras. I had never had liver before of any sort, so to try this fattened duck liver was stepping out on a limb. The foie gras was set on top of this pastry shell that contained a goat cheese spread and some wine-poached pears. The side of the plate was lined with a currant and caper relish, with a couple of blackberries to maintain a bit of sweetness. I fully appreciated this dish as it burst with flavor. It was served at a perfect temperature, and the firmness of the pears with the slick texture of the seared liver was a beautiful combination.

For my entree, I decided on a more familiar farm to table vegetable plate. Serving a plate full of only vegetables though is an art form in and of itself. Sometimes, I find cooking meat to be an easier task than preparing the perfect vegetable. Like any other food, they have to be cooked in such a way not only to retain their flavor but to preserve their texture. This plate was full of all different kinds: carrots, potatoes, beets, okra, corn, field peas, cherry tomatoes, asparagus, squash, green tomatoes, and turnips. When I sampled a first bite of this plate, I felt that I had actually met summer with my palette. This turned out to be my favorite dish of the evening, because each vegetable was uniquely prepared, and the flavor only magnified as I headed deeper into the dish. 

After my plate was taken away, I ended up waiting about fifteen to twenty minutes for my waitress to return. I am not sure why it took so long, but I was patient as I knew one person among many brought less attention. During this time I looked around and watched the staff work on preparing the tables, and I watched the visitors as they conversed with their friends and family over food. The restaurant's decadence was phenomenal! 

As I mentioned before though, there was a stiffness about the place that distracted me. I watched as waiters and waitresses walked by and handled dishes with routine, draping a white cloth over dirty glassware and plates before returning them to the kitchen. I watched as many visitors filed in and refused to look at their servers who took care of their needs, forgetting perhaps that it was truly their privilege to be there. Honestly, it saddened me a bit, for as good as the food was, there seemed to be a lack of passion in the atmosphere. Almost as if all that was enclosed within these doors was a part of a ritual and no longer an art.

There was one moment during the evening when I caught one of the waiters in a bit of conversation. He stiffly had walked up to my table to serve me some decaf drip coffee that I had ordered with dessert, and I paused for a moment to look at him and ask if he enjoyed working there. At first, he did not hear me and routinely turned to inquire again after what I had asked. After repeating my question, for the first moment of the evening, I watched his shoulders relax as he heaved a small sigh. "It's okay," he said. He went on to describe how it was his first job and that he enjoyed the service duties. His voice trailed off as if he had more to say, but for the sake of the restaurant's reputation withheld his tongue. I never did get his name, but this young man liberated this visit for me as it was the first genuine look and smile I received that evening, however brief though that it was. 

To finish off the dinner, I had the Meyer's lemon creme brulee with a thick butter cookie and some blueberries and blackberries. This sour lemon bite with the bitter drop of coffee wrapped up my evening. It brought everything to a savoring close. It was elegant, but even in the heat of summer, I could feel the chill of the restaurant's structure. Two and half hours later after walking out of the doors of Café Dupont, I realized I honestly could have not asked to have felt more alone. My outfit was fitting. The dark night outside greeted me with the same chill I had felt enclosed within the walls. The food had been outstanding, and I knew the memory would last. But which memory would it be? The stark contrast of decadent flavor on my plate or the haunting voice of my servers asking, "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

A Whisper of Freedom

It has taken a bit for me to get my hectic schedule under control. As the new year rolled around, I could never have imagined how much busier life could become. Within the first four months of the year, I have ventured on another research trip to the National High Magnetic Field Laboratory, worked on a grant application, met with my PhD committee for the first time, and on and on and on. As a stressed individual in a graduate physics program, I need those moments to take a step back to breathe. So, with an apology to my readers, who have been patient to wait for the latest culinary scoop, I would like to venture down memory lane for a moment and reminisce about my most recent Tallahassee trip back in February.

Those research trips to the handle of Florida are horrendous to say the least. Little sleep, a semi-decent 2-week hotel stay, clothes that desperately need a good cleaning, endless hours adjusting mirrors and other optical equipment around a magnet - that about sums up the trip. Just now and then, though, there is a moment of fresh air. My colleague Tracy and I decided to go somewhere nice to eat before we took the big plunge into work. The event was satisfying, its memory existing as a free haven for us over the next couple of weeks.

Liberty Bar and Restaurant - Tallahassee, FL

At first, Tracy and I truly did not know what to expect. A restaurant paired with a bar experience can go a number of different ways. As we walked in though, I still anticipated being impressed since I had taken a peek at the online menu. The atmosphere was not necessarily the most inviting as it was one giant open room with bare walls and dim lighting. To me, it almost felt like an old warehouse, echoing with the voices of her visitors.

But my dear readers, the food was far from disappointing! Tracy and I started off by splitting an appetizer of prosciutto wrapped dates. These medjool dates burst with sharp flavor and blended so well with the creamy nuttiness of the goat cheese and bold sting of the balsamic vinegar drizzle. There were also pungent leaves of arugula and sweet pecan crumbles that decorated the plate. Every single ingredient was so precisely chosen to enhance the overall quality of this dish. This by far was our favorite order of the night, leaving a sweet flavor in our mouths as we finished off the next two plates.


In order to get the most out of the experience, Tracy and I both decided to share our entree portions. We asked for the small plate of duck confit mac-n-cheese and the larger plate of veal shortrib stroganoff. The mac-n-cheese had shredded house cured duck mixed in with the creamy white noodles. There was a hint of smokiness to the bowl and of course an added top layer of crunch from the pork cracklin'. Delicious! It was truly large and filling enough for an average sized meal. The veal stroganoff was one of Tracy's favorites, although he fit in a conscious-stricken comment about the nature of preparing veal. As he postponed the feelings of guilt, I watched his pleased expression as he let the buttery fat of the meat scooped up with a spoon of creme fraiche just melt in his mouth. Since then, he has taken advantage of multiple opportunities to let people back at UAB know of the special cuisine Tallahassee has to offer.


The research trip, in and of itself, left much to be desired. But life is full of so many good and bad experiences that shape who we are, that I do not want to miss out on any one of them. Blended in with the chaotic events of this trip stands this little visit with freedom, a memory I would never want to replace.

The Song of the Bird

How could a day get any better? After finishing up work on Friday, I headed over to get my first full body massage. The long, deep strokes. The gentle sounds of nature. The warm blanket of the sheets around my skin. Okay, okay... I will spare my reader who is here for the scoop on my culinary life from all the details of my relaxation hour on steroids. But needless to say, as I prepared for my dinner, I embodied the definition of stress free living.

A couple months ago, I had found a new foodie comrade at a Bible study group I was visiting, and I was determined that she and I would have a night out on the town. I picked a place that I had done much research on since I had previously visited the other of Chef Chris Hasting's restaurants in Birmingham which is Hot and Hot Fish Club. So, on that frigid night, we found ourselves enjoying the glow of a local restaurant that pulled from the traditions of Spain, Portugal, Uruguay, Argentina, and most importantly the superior southern states of America.

Ovenbird - Birmingham, AL

How fitting that the ovenbird inhabits the forests of the mid-Atlantic states and areas of British Columbia calling out the song "teacher-teacher-teacher," for I surely did learn a lot on this cozy evening. As soon as I walked up to the restaurant, I felt at home. Fires burning in the outdoor pit. Brick walls. Wooden tabletops. Candles that provoked a tempting atmosphere. Rustic, mountain art. It was terribly inviting. Most importantly, from the minute we sat down to the moment we left Paul, our waiter, was there to make sure we got the most enjoyment out of the evening. 

One of the coolest features about this place is their choice of small plates and their encouragement to share. My friend Nia and I decided before hand that we wanted to make the most of the opportunity while we were there and to split everything we ordered. So yes, we were those people. Not only that, but Nia blessed me in bringing her professional camera for the occasion so that I could better share the memories from the night with my readers. 

We started off by ordering the jamon serrano which consisted of grilled bread topped with some thin slices of prosciutto, a spread of jam and shavings of what I believe was parmigiano reggiano cheese. It was delicious. The sweetness of the jam with the nuttiness of the cheese was a beautiful combination. I will admit, the dish was relatively simple and not overly creative, but sometimes there is a delicacy in something elementary and familiar. 

Next, we tried the spit roasted duck, which is a dish Nia and I felt very comfortable ordering since we were well acquainted with the ingredients. The duck had been cooking for eleven hours and was so tender since it had been soaking in its own fat for that long duration. It was ever so slightly crispy on the outside edges with little cocoa nibs and pumpkin seed crumbs sprinkled for added texture. The charred flavor of the duck blended so well with the smokiness of the butternut squash puree and the clean flavor of the lentils. This was actually both Nia and my favorite dish out of all the plates we sampled. It is also the dish that made me feel most at home. 

Our third dish was an adventure since it was something neither Nia nor I had ever experimented with before. We ordered quail! It was actually a completely different flavor than I was expecting, especially since it tasted nothing like any other poultry I had ever eaten. It had a bit more of wild layer of flavor than chicken but was of course not as heavy as other meat varieties. The quail was nestled on top of braised Brussels sprout halves and a creamy beet sauce. The Brussels sprouts were cooked to perfection, deeply enough that they were soft on the outside but still a bit crunchy beneath the leaves.  

And last but not least, Nia and I were ready for something sweet to close off the evening meal. We ordered the beignets which were cooked in a lemon peppercorn glaze and was served with a side of buttermilk cream cheese gelato set on top of a bed of brown sugar sprinkles. And was that hint of coffee in the gelato something I imagined? It was divine. The beignets were different as they tasted more like donuts instead of the New Orleans style beignets I have sampled on the streets of Louisiana, but combined with the gelato it was tasty. 

"But wait, there's more!" Our surprise came after this. Because he knew we had a professional camera with us to take pictures for my blog, Paul wanted to give us a quick glimpse into some of the little tricks they pull back there in the kitchen. He brought out the burnt pumpkin cream with its side of sweet candied pecans and vanilla shortbread and served it to us on the house. It was watching him burn the top of the pumpkin cream with a smoking hot rod of iron that was the star of the evening. Essentially, it tasted like a creme brulee, and I will have to say, they could not have given me too much of it. 

This experience was so much fun and would not have been the same without Paul as our server. I enjoyed every minute of the evening down to the last when I signed the receipt with a pen tied to a bird feather. Nia and I had a great opportunity to catch up as we ladies do while enjoying the luxury of tasty food. I look forward to more adventures with her as we traipse across Birmingham in search for culinary secrets, and I very much look in anticipation to the day I visit Ovenbird once more. 

A Hallmark Christmas Lunch

When the Christmas seasons draws near, so do the Hallmark Christmas movies. I have always teased my sister or my friends if they talk about cuddling up with a blanket and some hot cocoa in the winter months to watch the romantic fairy tales of the modern era. I have every reason to be skeptical as most of the Christmas movie plots involve stories entirely unrealistic, a show depicting a small town coming together to save a local bookstore around the Christmas holiday where in celebration they crowd around the bookstore fireplace and sing Christmas carols or an episode involving a newspaper reporter sent to "Christmasville" to learn the true meaning of Christmas.

Though I may be a tough skeptic of these idealized dramas, I would be lying if I said I did not have my own Hallmark Christmas movie experience in a small town on my way to my parent's for the holidays.

Classic on Noble - Anniston, AL

Little did I know walking into this restaurant that David Mashburn was the owner, a chef named one of the Good Heat Chefs by Alagasco, a title shared by Chef Frank Stitt in Birmingham who owns a number of  upscale local restaurants.

At first, I actually could not find the place because the windows were decked out with Christmas town houses; I thought it was a gift shop. When I finally did recognize the name on the window, I walked through the large heavy doors to discover a winter wonderland! People were gathered around a beautiful Christmas tree ornamented with colorful glass balls and lights and were snapping pictures for Christmas cards and memories.

The aura was so captivating, and I felt pleased that I was dressed for the Christmas part with my black and white plaid skirt and Russian black and gold scarf with fuzzy fur pom-poms dangling from the ends. Though I knew I would receive looks walking through a small strange town and eating at a fine restaurant all alone, that was not going to stop me. It is for these little experiences in life that I search.

Although I was not aware of the need to make a reservation, the hostess gracefully handled my unpreparedness and seated me at a small table near the window overlooking the Christmas town. It was magical! Not only was the scenery breathtaking, but I was seated in a black leather high-backed armchair at a table covered with a white linen cloth, red crimson napkins, and crystal glassware.

While I waited for my appetizer, I munched on some fresh, warm olive and cranberry almond bread slices. For the appetizer, I ordered the fried green tomato salad which was sprinkled with cold black-eyed peas and goat cheese and drizzled with a buttermilk vinaigrette. The southern heritage represented in this fancy dish was accurately and beautifully arranged. It was delicious.

My Christmas experience was however far from over. As a man awaited his party near the door, he began conversation with me about the restaurant and its owner and acquired how I found the eatery. I asked him to take a seat at my table while he waited, and he happily complied. As I continued to take bites of my appetizer, Mr. John (from Pennsylvania) and I discussed our backgrounds and eventually settled on the love we had for food. Mr. John was full of advice for places I should visit in my city of Birmingham as well as other cities I should visit soon (like Charleston, SC) for their culinary offers. It was such a pleasant tete-a-tete while we sat amid the ceramic Christmas village.

After Mr. John's party arrived and he left with them, I ordered the dill chicken salad which was rolled into a ball, set upon a bed of leaves, and surrounded with different blends of fruit and walnuts. A very simple dish, but full of flavor and freshness. During the rest of my meal with the occasional acknowledgement from a stranger, I kept glancing across the Christmas setting. I kept listening to the joyful chatter and laughter of other visitors as they soaked in the glory of the holiday spirit.

The little excursion to this quaint restaurant in Anniston felt almost unreal as the Hallmark Christmas movies I always tease my sister about, so I suppose I cannot be so judgmental in the future for her wishing to escape the every day world for a Christmas fairy-tale adventure. I do not know what this restaurant looks or feels like during the rest of the year, but I at least can thank them for providing a magical Christmas lunch on my four and half hour drive home to see my family.

The Other Side of the Ocean

One would not necessarily guess that physics can create an overall well-rounded individual. In fact, the average person probably equates the subject with characters from Big Bang Theory. Though I do have my Sheldon moments of 'nerd'dom, I do like to believe that through my different adventures and interests, I have acquired more than just the typical dweeb mentality. Physics has opened up numerous doors of possibilities, specifically research opportunities in numerous locations around the globe. Through these research trips, I have been blessed to have a diverse range of food experiences.

The trip I am currently on is a month long excursion at the National High Magnetic Field Laboratory in Florida. As run-down as the surrounding town of Tallahassee might look or as partied up as the Florida State University campus might be, the city surprisingly holds some of my favorite restaurants that I have been to in the United States.

Isabella's Pizzaria Napoletana - Tallahassee, FL

Logo from restaurant website

I had been here before on one of my previous trips. I had to come back. This little restaurant on the corner took me down memory lane, a road that traveled all the way across the ocean back to a port city in Italy where I tried my very first authentic Italian pizza. 

The restaurant was founded in 2015 by Mikel Jaramillo, and I was so pleased to be able to meet him the day I returned to this cozy venue. Chef Mikel is one of the most personable people I have ever met, for as soon as I walked up to the register he was already conversing with me and my coworker Shukai about our backgrounds, to find out where we were coming from, what we were doing during our time in Tallahassee. 

After I shared how I kept a food blog and would love more information about the restaurant's history so that I might relate the details to my readers, we proceeded to order before Chef Mikel stopped by our table to tell us more. Shukai ordered the marinara pizza without any cheese, and I ordered the capricciosa pizza that was topped with olives, ham, basil, mushrooms and mozzarella. The large stone pizza oven was out in plain view so we could see our pizzas being popped into the fire. The crust on these pies were thin and crispy, with a few charred smudges that left remnants of its former housing. 

"Why Isabella's?" I asked Chef Mikel. At that point, he gave me his story. He named the restaurant after his cousin who had passed away eight years prior. Her passing had reminded him of the value of life, how short life was, and the importance of pursuing those things he was passionate about. It was at this point that he quit business school to attend culinary school, a step which was just the beginning of his career embracing the culinary arts. Using his background that he did have in the business sector, he applied what he knew to begin his entrepreneurship in opening up his own restaurant in Tallahassee. With his mother's side of his family from Spain and Italy, he desired to offer the southern city a taste of Europe in his pizza. 

I was delighted to hear his story, and it warmed my heart to hear how he was passionately pursuing his dreams. He related his future plans for his restaurant and shared how he had already begun to serve homemade gelato and how that had become a staple favorite for the college students in town. With as delicious as the pizza tasted, as relaxing as the atmosphere felt, and as heartwarming as the company was, I could not wait to get this post out. If my readers do ever drop by this amazing little restaurant or see some of Chef Mikel's future venues pop up in different locations, do be sure to extend my hello. Until then, I eagerly await my next opportunity to visit, for I will most definitely return. 

A Contemporary Classic

I admit. I am probably one of the most unique teaching assistants in the physics department. How many TA's interrupt class to ask their students what they recommend as the best eatery in Birmingham or the surrounding area? Now, some might think this completely out of place for a physics classroom, but I like to use the excuse that I am building camaraderie with my students. After circling the room and creating a list of their favorites, I ended with over thirty new locations to visit.

While I was not that hungry but still desired a unique food experience that day, I perused down my students' list and found the perfect choice. There is practically nothing more traditional to have for lunch than soup and a sandwich, and that is exactly what I was in the mood for. Grabbing my friend Amanda in the graduate department, we headed out for a quick bite.

Melt - Birmingham, AL

The location is different to say the least. Packed among a number of older homes and buildings in Avondale, stands this little garage. I am not exaggerating by calling it a garage, because the structure actually began as such. It seems completely appropriate, considering that even before that, the restaurant started out as a food truck (a truck named Matilda in fact).


The environment was pleasant. As soon as Amanda and I walked in the door, I was surprised by the number of well-dressed visitors that were there, for I thought that due to the casual environment, it would attract a different crowd. The majority, however, were taking their lunch break from work or were groups of girlfriends gathering for a casual midday hangout.

The rustic tin signs on the wall or the antique metal lunch boxes on the table that held the napkins and utensils only further added to the "garage" feel. All the food items were served on aluminum baking pans, a detail I thought fitting. On top of all of that, with the kitchen area completely open to the public view, one hears the pans clanking and food sizzling against the back wall while boisterous voices of customers echo across the tight space. Crammed for sure, but intimate nonetheless.

Amanda ordered the Rajin' Cajun sandwich slathered in creamy coleslaw with a side of beer battered fries, and I ordered the Classic Melt grilled cheese with a side of tomato basil soup. Both of the sandwiches were made with thick, buttery Texas toast, something unique to all the Melt sandwiches. It was fun, it was different. The food was a twist for comfort. It was definitely a neat little location and a place worth visiting.

I think my favorite part of this little adventure was the people. The atmosphere was conducive for conversation, and the others that were present seemed genuinely like they were there for a good time. Right before I left, I wanted to be sure to snap a picture of the sign out front. There was already a beautiful lady sitting out on the bench in front of the large wooden letters, so explaining my purpose for taking the photo, I asked if I might include her in the shot. She seemed slightly taken aback and asked what she should be doing for the picture. "Just smile real big," I said. After capturing the moment, she laughed and thanked me. My only regret from this visit was that I never got her name.

Delectable Delights

Have you ever been proud of yourself for stumbling upon a hidden treasure with no outside help from anyone or anything (even the mighty internet)? That is what I felt when I found this hidden gem on one of my lonely excursions around Birmingham, and when I found it, I had to tell my friends about it. Since that time, it has become a little hotspot for some of us physicists who need a breakaway from the everyday commonalities of work. It is found in a unique area of Birmingham, tucked away among buildings that have either been closed down or await renovation. It sits on the outskirts of the University of Alabama at Birmingham campus, and forever will remain one of my little favorite off-campus getaways.

Birmingham Breadworks – Birmingham, AL

Logo from bakery website 

On the side of this antique building is painted a bright view of Birmingham at sunset, a picture depicting such pride and loyalty for the great city. As you walk inside, you see a conglomeration of random couches, chairs, and tables assembled throughout the wide, open room. Empty cement factory-like walls with dents punctured in the surface give no memorable impression. But the smell, my friends! And the delectable sights! Fresh loaves of French, sourdough, farm, rye, pumpernickel, multigrain, garlic, and olive varieties line the side wall. An assortment of pastries whisper temptingly from the front display. Fortunately, the bakery also serves a temporary lunch between the hours of 11 am – 2 pm every weekday with specials for each day including soups, salads, slices of pizza, and sandwiches featuring their freshly baked bread.

When my friend Tracy and I pulled up to the bakery, he looked over at me to ask how long we were staying to determine how many coins to put in the sidewalk meter. Giving a quick side glance, I told him not only was I there to buy a loaf of bread, but we had to stay that day for pastries and coffee. No debating about this. If I have learned anything from Tracy in my time knowing him at UAB, it is that time to relax must be had if one is to succeed in this field with a sane state of mind.

Tracy ordered the cream cheese and pear preserves danish while I ordered the Nutella danish along with a single shot of espresso. Convinced by sampling both of the sweets, I predicted that every single pastry sold would be equally as delightful. It cannot be overemphasized how special this place is. During our visit, Tracy got a call from his girlfriend Sam, who proceeded to express her disappointment that she could not be there (for the location too has become one of her favorites), and Tracy, with a twist of his lips and a gleam in his eye, refused to reveal his little surprise for her that awaited in a brown paper bag.

Amidst talking about physics excitements and frustrations, we also discussed the future potential of this little bakery – how nice it would be for them to create an outdoor patio, how the empty back room could be used for counter space. This location is fairly new in that it got started in 2014, and a lot of their publicity I am sure comes from their appearance at local farmer’s markets. However, I have hopes for so much more, and I eagerly await the growth of what I believe to be Birmingham’s best source of baked goods. Any visitor passing through the area has not experienced the fullness of this city’s gift without dropping by Birmingham Breadworks. 

To Repel Attraction is to Attract Repulsion

In the book of Ecclesiastes in the Bible, chapter 3, verse 1, it says that "there is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens." Though there may indeed be a time for all possible things, there may not need to be. Some ideas are simply meant to remain in the mind.

My friend Micah called me up one day and said she wanted to try an experimental restaurant but that she did not want to experience the occasion alone, so of course, I agreed to accompany her. After all, with it involving food, how could I resist?

Cowfish in Birmingham, Al

Logo from restaurant website 

Tucked away in the Summit shopping center of Birmingham stands a restaurant that has taken a leap of faith. If I were a sorority girl and could use one phrase to describe my memory of this place, it would be "I can't even." This phrase has never fit more appropriately.

Outside the restaurant is a sculpture of a cow-fish (the head of a cow, the body of a fish), as if one actually existed. Apparently, the place is a hot spot, for Micah and I were added to the wait list with the log backed up for an hour.

Once we were finally seated within the restaurant, I took a look around. Cow and fish. Burgers and sushi. American and Japanese. Red and yellow. Forks and chopsticks. But wait, there is more. Legos. Pac-man. Ukiyo-e paintings of fat Japanese men eating burgers. Art of colonials eating sushi. Aquariums. Talking bathrooms. And it goes on and on and on. Before even taking a seat, I was stressed, but I was not about to give up.

For the appetizer, we ordered blackened tuna nachos, which as bizarre as they were, were absolutely delicious. Somehow, the blend of crab rangoon with the blackened tuna on top of the crispy wonton chips with its dab of salsa and guacamole was insanely mouthwatering. But even in this moment, I could not categorize my feelings. Was I pleased? Was I appalled? Well, I continued.

For the main course, Micah ordered the cowfish bento box which was supposedly the perfect choice in matching the theme of the place. It came with three different sushi rolls (California, spicy tuna, and Philly roll), edamame, sweet potato fries, Thai cucumbers, and an American mini-burger. Led by the hypnotic vibe of the restaurant, I ordered the 4-S (Sear-iously Sensational Sushi Sandwich) which served Koji tuna and yellowtail in sandwich form, with the "bun" made of kani and sushi rice, along with a side of Thai cucumbers. The sambal sesame soy dressing that was then drizzled over the sandwich was spicy at one end of the spectrum while the side of cucumbers was at the opposite end by being overbearingly sweet. Individually, each item was tasty, but even as I ripped apart my sandwich breading to see how all the ingredients were crafted into a bun... Was I pleased? Was I appalled? No. Yes. I was confused. So very confused. And I never ever get confused about food or the atmosphere surrounding the food. Never. 

At that point, I turned to Micah and with a lowered voice expressed my bewilderment. "Micah, my dear," I said, "Thank you so much for bringing me here. I am really glad you love the place, and I am glad I have had the experience. But never bring me back here again." Micah, for some odd reason, seemed thrilled that she had succeeded in confusing me with food, as if that was some kind of goal on her bucket list.

And it is done. I am never going back. I can appreciate the creativity. I can even admit the fine quality of food. I have never been more intrigued, and I have never been more horrified. Kudos, Cowfish. I can't even.

Exchanged Greeting with T-Town

Sometimes things can get violent over this. Sometimes friendships will be broken over this. Sometimes there will be mixed feelings of superiority over this. Football. And currently, I have friends who are trying to pull me from both sides. There is Auburn. And then there is Alabama. Thankfully, at this point, I can lay down the Georgia Bulldog card, and all I receive is a sigh and a pitying smile.

But on this particular day, I was taking a visit to see my date in T-Town, otherwise known as Tuscaloosa, home of the University of Alabama.

Glory Bound Gyro Co. - Tuscaloosa, Al

Logo from restaurant website

The center of town actually does not look that different from Birmingham, except perhaps a bit cleaner than some of the Birmingham downtown area. It was just starting to drizzle, and I was waiting for Connor under the awning of the front door. As I turned, I saw a flash of crimson as he came running up out of the rain shirted in the well-known school color with the flashy, cursive 'A' stitched into the fabric of his polo. So much pride. 

So, Connor knows I am obsessed with food. This was actually the first time he picked out the place for the both of us to eat, and I was kind of nervous. If it was terrible, I would never have made a mention of it on my blog, because... well, I am not that cynical. Thankfully, it turned out to be an absolutely wonderful experience, and I feel overjoyed that his first choice was something that I can write about. Now that I have made this first leap of faith, I can trust all his future choices will be equally as memorable. No pressure. 

The inside of the restaurant was very open and spacious, definitely inviting from the rain that was then pouring outside. My first shocker of the evening was that Connor confessed he had never before tried hummus. After letting me pick the three different flavors, he ordered for us the hummus trio appetizer in spinach pesto, Mediterranean olive, and original flavors. As we dipped into the different chickpea blends with our side of pita, I watched Connor's expression as he sampled each flavor. The spinach pesto was his favorite, a natural choice considering it removed the majority of the bitterness of the olive or chickpea. I begged him of course to try the kalamata olive sitting in the middle of the dip, but I had no success. He adamantly shook his head 'no,' and proceeded to tell me about 'The Olive Theory' presented on the show How I Met Your Mother, which at the time, I was convinced he was making up. Well, there is still time. 

When our waiter came back for our entree requests, I ordered the falafel gyro with the side of cottage fries, and Connor ordered the hot ham and cheese gyro with his side of cottage fries. I am pleased to say that the falafel gyro was the best one I have ever had at a Greek restaurant, and the stocky potato wedges were perfectly seasoned. I had to keep myself from doing a little dance in my seat, when I tasted how perfectly savory the fries were and how excellent the homemade tzatzaki sauce was on the gyro.

Overall, this place was great! I could not eat everything that night so I packed up the leftovers and enjoyed it for lunch the next day. It was surprisingly tasty even the second go round. After dinner, we decided to take a stroll around town, on which journey we were greeted by an older gentleman decked out in Alabama apparel who proceeded to share questionable jokes about the Alabama team and their opponents. Thankfully, Connor handled the situation gracefully before any more "humor" could exit his mouth. 

I feel I had an appropriate introduction to Tuscaloosa in all her pride and glory, no pun intended. My readers should definitely drop by this enjoyable restaurant on the corner. Of course, on a more personal note, because of the individual that lives in T-Town, I have every intention of returning. 

Delighting the Mind with Eclecticism

The physics studying still continues, and at this point, I am looking for distractions. I keep convincing myself of the lie that the last week before the test is easily not the most vital week of preparation. At least I started off the morning with good intentions, studying at a local coffee shop, but towards the middle of the day, I instead found myself on the top of a parking deck joining the crowd to watch the solar eclipse. I do have a major test coming up, but this event could not be missed! Of course there is also the next solar eclipse in April of 2024, but still I recognize priorities when I see them.

After watching the eclipse, I turned to my friends Tracy and Sam for the next diversion. Studying was tiresome, painful, and was slowly growing to be overwhelmingly depressing. We all three knew, whatever distraction that was to come, that somehow it must involve food. After all, as Hippocrates was so wise to state in 400 BC,

Let thy food be thy medicine.

Much to the relief of the trio, we found ourselves headed to a nearby food court.

Pizitz Food Hall - Birmingham, Al

Logo from The Pizitz website

There was nothing to prepare me for the experience behind those large glass doors. Upon first glance, it looked like any other food hall with rows of different restaurant stalls and customer tables and chairs set up neatly through the long hallway. It was, however, the diversity of food selection and uniqueness of fresh dishes that made this place so appealing. Tracy, Sam and I started our full tour by taking in each vendor in all of their splendor, considering our different meal options, and smelling the distinct aromas that met us around each corner. 

At first, I felt frustration. How in the world could I choose when everything looked so delicious and smelled so taunting? I eventually settled on MoMo, an authentic Nepalese restaurant that was opened by Abhi Sainju, a man originally from Nepal who spent his young years at a boarding school in India. Chef Sainju is the owner of the local downtown Bamboo on 2nd, another place on my list to eventually visit. I ordered the vegetable momo ('momo' being the Nepalese word for 'dumpling') which was served with a tomato based broth. I am unsure of other specific ingredients, since at this time, I am not as familiar with Nepalese cuisine. Regardless, I thought the dish was delicious; it had a calm and sweet flavor from the tomato but a bit of a hot bite from some spices in the sauce. I let my friend Sam try a bite of these little dumplings, and though I do not feel she was smitten as much as I was, she did still express an interest in the flavors and labeled it 'good.'

Sam ordered the pork belly ramen from Ichicoro Imoto, a Japanese ramen restaurant, and was greatly pleased. She was sweet enough to let me sip a spoonful of the broth in her dish and try a bamboo shoot from the soup. The bamboo shoot was prime, still firm enough that it had a bit of a crunch. As expected, the broth categorizes the dish under salty and fishy labels, both of which are flavors the partaker must be craving.

Tracy ordered a Parisian sandwich from Busy Corner Cheese and Provisions, which consisted of madrange ham and Brie cheese on a French baguette. As usual, Tracy's choice of food made me jealous. He was equally as pleased with his decision and proceeded to hand out samples of his sandwich for both me and Sam to try. Superb! But how could I stop here? How could I, a cheese lover, pass up an opportunity to savor more?

As usual, I gave in to my inner crazy voice of addiction and once more returned for additional food. I am happy to say that what next entered our mouths was the highlight of this entire day. I ordered a cheese board from Busy Corner Cheese and Provisions. On top of that, I instantly felt a connection with Brian McMillan, the owner of this business. He worked so hard to make our experience enjoyable and even proceeded to write down all the names of the cheeses that we were sampling. Without a shadow of a doubt, I trusted this man and his knowledge of cheeses. If anyone takes the opportunity to visit this small deli cafe to speak with Brian, they will not leave disappointed. In fact, I extend my hello to Brian through any reader that drops by this wonderful cafe stop.

The cheeses we were privileged to sample included: Bearded Lady goat cheese from Prodigal Farm in North Carolina, Wilde Weide cheese from L'Amuse in Holland, Tunworth cheese from Neal's Yard Dairy in England, Thomasville Tomme cheese from Sweetgrass in Georgia, and Nickajack cheese from Sequatchie Cove Farm in Tennessee. We could pair the cheeses with quince preserves, fig jam, or a drizzle of rosemary honey from the Savannah Bee Company. 

Tracy, Sam and I spent the next half an hour at least savoring each cheese in its smell, texture, and relish. Some were more pungent than others (ahem, goat cheese), but each one I appreciated to its fullest capacity. Needless to say, studying for the rest of the day was downhill. It is only natural after such a mountaintop experience. What a memorable moment! Though this week's test stands looming over each of my brain's neurons, this delightful food experience broke down the walls of terror in my mind. If nothing else in my life ever succeeds, I will forever know that God blessed me with one last celebrated occasion at the Pizitz food hall.