A Tale of Two (sorta Three or Four) Restaurants

One of the best things about weekends (well, the weekend after payday, that is) is that we get to eat out more than once. It's our big thing, our entertainment for the week. And now that Fey is thoroughly committed to the idea of trying every good restaurant in Louisville, weekends are an adventure.

Friday was especially sweet, since a friend of the family fixed my car and it's running the best it has in five years. We decided to start at the beginning of Fey's Big List with Amici in Old Louisville. Amici was a lesson for us, because we refused to listen to our instincts.

Fey didn't like the place from the moment we entered--the decor, the feel, the prices. I wanted to give it a break (although I'm sure the fact that I didn't feel like getting back out into Friday night traffic might have had something to do with it.) I was incredibly unimpressed with the service--our server actually forgot my drink order while bringing Fey's. I eventually had to get another server to bring me my drink.

We discussed our options over bad cheese biscuits and cold Italian bread. Should we stay? Should we try someplace else? Eventually, we decided to use our Super Secrit Appetizer Test. You see, if a questionable restaurant doesn't win us over with appetizers, we pay our bill and head out to another restaurant for entrees.

I got the cream of mushroom soup (around $3.50) and Fey got the antipasto ($11.50). My first bite of soup was not inspiring--there was an odd taste to it, which could have been oil or something. However, each successive bite got better until the overall taste rating was satisfactory to me. Fey's antipasto was...well, uninspired. But it had the benefit of having the "best mozzarrella" she'd ever tasted. So here we were, at a crossroads. Do we give the place a chance based on decent, but not overly inspired appetizers? At this point, it behooves me to admit, I was swayed by their vegetarian offerings. It's the rare Italian restaurant where I have the opportunity to eat something besides spaghetti marinara, and the thought of vegan pizza or vegan meatballs had me tempted.

So, we decided to go for it.

Bad idea.

The first rule of Eating Healthy is "If you have to try too hard, it's not worth it." In other words, vegan meatballs and whole wheat spaghetti may be much better for you than the real deal, but it's a rare chef who can make them taste good. And the chef at Amici did not pass this test. Fact is, there is enough wiggle room in Italian cuisine that a great chef can offer tasty vegetarian options without resorting to bad commercial pasta and meatballs made from (among other things) Gimme Lean sausage mix. Still, I have no one to blame but myself for this meal. My gut told me to stick with regular pasta marinara, but I just had to try the "healthy stuff." My bad. Won't make that mistake (to the tune of $14.00) again.

Fey opted for something a little less healthy, the Orchard Pork Medallions. At $17.50, this entree looked at least interesting. The menu described it as "Pan seared pork medallions served with caramelized onions, Anjou pears and an apple-cider brandy reduction served with flavorful horseradish mashed potatoes." According to Fey, the flavor combinations did not work at all, the reduction was thin and watery and more apple juice than reduction. To my non-carnivore eyes, it looked...well, yucky. It was brown and goopy and had no structure at all. It looked like everything was just thrown together. Now, as a good Cajun girl, I know ugly food can be delicious. But Fey assured me, this was not the case with the pork medallions.

We left most of our entrees on our plate. Amici tries, which I like, to offer options to its customers. It tries, which I like, to recognize diners with food restrictions.

Ultimately, however, Amici fails on execution. Fifty dollars later, we left unsatisfied, disappointed, and feeling pretty stupid for ignoring our better sense. Scratch that one off the list. We wound up at Varanese for mocha crème brulee and pampering from the awesome staff there. It was ten dollars of comfort (since we didn't actually eat our entrees at Amici, I didn't begrudge myself the calories) to counterbalance a very upsetting dinner.

So, burned and stinging, we roll into Saturday not really excited about our prospects. Fey did her research--checked reviews, checked prices, checked everything--and we settled on North End Cafe. This was perfect. I knew where it was, so no chance of getting lost on the way. The food looked safe enough. And I'd heard good things about it.

Seems the entire restaurant (we learned after our hour long drive up from Elizabethtown) was booked for a private party. Too bad the management didn't bother to put a sign on the door. I only figured this out when I saw the wedding book on the table and asked a server, "hey, um, is this a private party?" Yeah. Move North End Cafe a little lower on the To-Do List.

After some soul-searching and a stilted conversation with a clerk at a convenience store, we decided to head out to Bardstown Road and try out Dakshin Indian Restaurant. At this point, it was 10 pm on a Saturday night, we were both exhausted and hungry. Needless to say, when we pulled up into a strip mall and saw the cheesy neon sign, our spirits were a little dashed. Fey went in to check out the lay of the land.

When she exited, her exact comment was this: "It smells like heaven in there, but I hate the atmosphere." I parked the car. I wasn't about to let something like atmosphere keep me from a place that smelled "like heaven." (Oddly enough, we recounted later, Amici didn't have a smell at all. That's not a really good sign, is it, in retrospect?)

And Fey was right. The atmosphere was a bit cheesy, with the enormous flat screen televisions playing Bollywood music videos and the booths that seemed a bit reminescent of a Luther's BBQ from the 80s. But, lord have mercy, it smelled good.

Another positive sign--there wasn't a single white person in the room except us. And the menu did not offer any explanations as to the food. Any restaurant that assumes you already know what all the exotic stuff on the menu is...well, it's catering to people who know the cuisine. Good sign.

Bad for us, though. Fey asked the incredibly attentive server if he had a "white girl's menu" or if he could help us make sense of the numerous options. An older menu was quickly produced, that had descriptions of the offerings. We got vegetable samosas ($3.99) to share, as well as aloo naan ($2.50). The samosas were spicy enough to have a kick, but not so spicy as to burn our mouths, and the texture was perfect. I wasn't as happy with the veggie pakoras ($3.99), but that's probably because I bit into a big hunk of bell pepper, which I loathe. Of course, the non-bell pepper portion of the pakora was wonderful--Fey and I both loved it. The naan was delicious--crispy and flavorful and satisfying.

For entrees, Fey stayed with the tandoori chicken ($9.99), which came in a generous portion on a sizzling platter and looked perfectly cooked to me. Fey pronounced it the best tandoori she'd ever had, and praised it no end. I went with the vegetable pulao with korma ($6.99). I will admit that I was a wimp and was not able to eat it all--it was a little on the spicy side. However, the flavor of what I could eat was so delicious that I couldn't bear not to take it home and try to, well, wimp it down as a leftover. Yes, I'm offended with my own limp palate, but I digress.

In the end, we were stuffed (even with me bringing the bulk of my entree home) and our bill came only to about $40 (with tip).

The moral of our tale, boys and girls? Go with your gut. And if a place smells like heaven, try it out.