As some readers may know, I grew up in St. Louis and now reside near Detroit. One thing the two cities have in common is a sense of rivalry with the Crown Jewel of Midwestern cities: Chicago. You could always count on some newspaper article (back when people actually read newspapers) touting the respective cities pros and cons when weighed against Chi-town. Wishful thinking.
You see, there is no way, no how, no chance either St. Louis or Detroit (and I love both, by the way) even come close to the awesomeness that is Chicago. I’m not even going to work my way down the checklist of reasons why — any objective observer would have to concur that Chicago rules the Midwest.
Goose Island is the Chicago microbrew. Sure, there are many others, but for the average consumer, Goose Island is the one on the shelf at the local Megamart. I’ve always found Goose Island beer to be good, but not great. Until now…
Goose Island Harvest Ale is pretty amazing stuff. It had many of the expected attributes one looks for in a fall beer: a roasted malt flavor and appealing amber color. But what sets Harvest Ale above the rest are the hops. You end up with this wonderful, bitter hoppy finish on top of the caramel malt. It makes for a fantastic beer, perfect for fall.
Goose Island Harvest Ale is a worthy representative of the great city it comes from. Hopefully the beer lovers out there can give it a try; you will not be disappointed. Harvest Ale is (currently) without peer among the seasonals I have had the good fortune to drink, and that includes Sierra Nevada. I do plan on reviewing at least a couple more, so final verdict will be withheld for now. But for the time being, Goose Island Harvest Ale is the beer to beat.
All right, the addition to the title is a joke. Having said that, however, due to the overwhelming response I do plan on a prequel to my Eating the Road series, starting with the gripping tale of when I got gas for my car and a snack at the gas station before I left for Philly. Stay tuned for that…
In all seriousness (I officially have more sense than George Lucas — no prequels here) this is the end of the road. And I wish I could write about some delicious breakfast I had before I dropped my wife off at the Philly airport and began my long drive back, but I can’t — I was righteously hungover. I staggered to the mini bar and allowed my self to get bit by the hair of the dog to set the day straight. Just kidding, I drank a bottle of water, choked down a cup of coffee and was on my way.
I refused to allow myself to be gouged on the Pennsylvania Turnpike again, so I headed north for a route that would take a little longer, but save me $20 in tolls. This route also coincidentally brought me near State College, PA, one of my favorite college towns, and just in time for lunch at that.
My first stop was at another turnpike rest area, alas I did have to use the turnpike a little to get out of Philly, but this was worth it. It had a crazy huge food court and a well stocked convenience store. Finally feeling like I could manage a little food, I grabbed a granola bar and a Diet Dew and headed for State College.
Before I write about my exploits in Nittany Lion land, I do want to give a brief shout out to Lehigh Valley, PA. This place is really beautiful. If you ever have a chance to go there, and I can’t imagine why you would, GO THERE. Seriously.
Lehigh Valley, PA. Go there, man.
I timed my arrival in State College for lunch to be around 3:30, which was coincidentally the same time a certain Maize and Blue football team was set to kickoff against the evil Golden Domers of Notre Dame. I had planned on hitting a local brewpub called Otto’s, and enjoying a little Big Ten brotherhood as we watched Shoelace run roughshod over the Irish.
I don't think we're in Ann Arbor anymore…
Alas, I left my directions at the hotel in Philly and chanced that I would be able to find Otto’s on my own. State College isn’t that big. Unfortunately, I had no success and was not happy about the prospect of missing kickoff. Just down the road from Beaver Stadium (which is pretty impressive) was a place called the Nittany Lion Inn, and it had a sign which read: Public Welcome. “I’m the public!” I thought, and ambled in.
Have you ever entered an establishment and immediately felt out of place? I was completely underdressed, and to make matters worse, I was not wearing any Penn State garb. Still, the game was on a TV at the lounge, which was amusingly called “Whiskers.” Wolverines have whiskers too, PSU fan.
Whiskers was a pretty nice lounge, and my sandals and shorts weren’t as badly out of place there. It was something of a Dockers convention and everyone had an appropriately navy blue shirt on as well. As for the menu, A+, Whiskers had a fantastic selection; I had a difficult time choosing. I selected the Bison Burger, which was topped with crispy shallots (amazing), smoked cheddar and BBQ sauce. The burger, fries, and a salad ran $12, and was worth every penny. The BBQ sauce was nothing special, but the Bison was perfect and the smoked cheddar was, how shall I say it, smoky. Really delicious.
The only drawback was the pint of Yuengling I ordered. Yuengling bills themselves as “America’s Oldest Brewery,” and it is all over PA. I finally broke down and tried it, and was not very impressed. Call it a rich man’s Rolling Rock. Typical American lager, not terrible but certainly not memorable. At least I can now check it off my Beer Bucket List.
I watched three quarters of the game before I left. The Nittany Lion Inn was an inviting and comfortable place; Penn Staters were friendly and open to a fellow Big Ten fan in their midst. I could have stayed longer, perhaps another couple pints and grabbing a room at the Inn. Penn State was due to play Alabama that night and it promised to be a raucous environment. But I had to leave…
Good thing I did, too. I didn’t get back to Ann Arbor until midnight, and Penn State got clobbered by ‘Bama.
The road was good to me, especially my last day. I-80 through Pennsylvania is very scenic and beautiful, and lunch at a Big Ten college town was the perfect break in the day. Having been to each Big Ten college town (Lincoln, NE doesn’t count yet) I can attest that if you can’t have a good time in these places than you are already dead.
As for Eating the Road, thanks for reading my first venture into travel writing. The best part about it was the eating.
When you have small children, dinner alone at a nice restaurant with your spouse is a luxury. Usually, our wedding anniversary is the one day a year we can count on to be able to do this. So, like haggard revolutionaries descending from the jungle, my wife and I entered one of Philadelphia’s finest Cuban restaurants, Cuba Libre, to mark our 10th anniversary.
Cuba Libre
She ordered a glass of white wine, while I embraced the setting and ordered a Mojito. The Mojito was very nice, but something is lost when drinking a tropical drink in a non-tropical setting.
For appetizers, my wife wanted the triple dip platter, with Haitian eggplant, black bean hummus, and smoked marlin dip/spreads. I was pleased with her choice and ready to eat when suddenly I was paralyzed by the icy grip of fear. Along with plantain chips, the dips were also served with cassava chips. As you may or may not know, Time Magazine had declared cassava one of the ten most dangerous foods in the world. My palms grew sweaty, chills ran up my spine, and the thought of leaving this mortal coil became a real proposition. How could I enjoy my appetizer when one its components was going to try to kill me?
Fortunately, I remembered my previous, Pulitzer Prize winning post about Time’s ridiculous list. Cassava was only dangerous if served raw. After sneaking into the kitchen to inspect the cooking method, and then convincing the chef and the manager on duty that I wasn’t insane, I settled in to enjoy my non-raw cassava chips.
And they were fantastic. Perhaps it was the proximity with danger, but I felt alive while indulging in the appetizer. My senses were even more aroused by the fact that the dips were amazing, especially the Haitian Eggplant, which was spicy and delicious. The smoked marlin was what you would expect, it tasted like smoked fish, and the black bean hummus was also outstanding. But the real revelation was the Haitian eggplant and the plantain chips. All in all, a terrific appetizer.
For dinner I had a sampler of empanadas, which seemed appropriately Cuban. One included chicken, corn, and jack cheese, which I could only describe as sinfully delicious. My wife selected a watercress salad and black bean soup, both of which were top-notch, and I also ordered black beans w/rice, onion, and bacon on the side. Cubans must love black beans, and who can blame them? They are outstanding, and at Cuba Libre they were clay in the chef’s hands.
If you are in Philly, Cuba Libre is a fantastic choice. Highly recommend.
Dolce
Not ready to call it a night, we asked our waitress for a recommendation for dessert and a nightcap. Her choice: Dolce, a trendy Italian restaurant a couple blocks away. My wife and I agreed and found our way there ten minutes later.
Upon entering, my wife and I snickered a bit. Trendy? Perhaps, but at Dolce they were trying too hard. The whole thing smacked of too much effort. The floor lit up, the waitresses were dour, pouty, and aloof, and at 11pm on a Friday night the place was practically empty. They might want to consider kicking it down a notch.
We did order dessert, vanilla cheesecake for me and apple pie with ice cream and caramel sauce for my wife. My cheesecake was fine — nothing special — but the apple pie was AMAZING. Imagine our surprise, that at this trying-too-hard-to-be-trendy restaurant we would find the most delicious apple pie. How the hell does that make sense?
After finishing dessert, we ordered another round of drinks, Bailey’s and coffee for my wife and a Dogfish IPA for me.
If you are looking for a pleasant environment and quality, friendly service, Dolce is not for you. The waitress was too pouty and dour, and the light up floor was giving me a headache. But they made one hell of a great apple pie.
In the final installment: My road trip back and lunch in State College at the Nittany Lion Inn.
