Heyooo!
I hope everyone had a great weekend with their heads in the sand!
That’s not to sound shitty—for me the last thing I’m thinking about on July 4th is this country. There’s too much horrible shit going on for me to ponder “America” with any serious thought. Though, I absolutely do take some time to be grateful for what a privileged life I live, a life that this country allows me to have. I mean, I write about food for Christ’s sake. What a charmed existence.
Anyway, July 4th is a time to grill, see the folks, enjoy the gorgeously green Pennsylvania Summer, and stave off my nephew’s punch-Uncle-Danny-in-the-nuts impulses.
As always, The Best Things I Ate is a dining roundup filled with insightful commentary. That commentary is what I pride myself on—finding fun ways to relay unique information to you, dear reader and food enthusiast.
When I started out as a food writer, I was terribly insecure about my lack of knowledge. These days, I feel more confident. One of the great things about my job is that I’m constantly learning something new, and thus, always feeling young.
Anyways, *burp* on to the newsletter.
Hey, have you upgraded to paid subscriber yet? If you do, you unlock tons of newsletters from the past. Plus the occasional paid post. Something to think about!
The Best Things I Ate Last Week
A wagyu meatball that changed my mind about wagyu meatballs
As I mentioned last week, my first I’m-a-real-critic-now restaurant review is about Adelina in downtown Detroit. That review is set to come out next month, but here you get the scoop first. A tiny bit of a spoiler here from the article I submitted, though you’ll definitely want to read the full piece when it drops:
Surprisingly, there’s a lot to sort through with Adelina’s concise menu, but the move here is to order like it’s Sunday. Order from the heart. Order with feeling, with sensitivity.
Order the meatball.
Who among us doesn’t want to be comforted by the tenderness of a giant, softball-sized mince made from Michigan wagyu beef?
In addition to being enormous, the meatball at Adelina is wonderfully delicate. Slicing it with the edge of a fork yields a clean, soft, cake-like sliver that’s intensely savory and tender, a texture achieved through the use of ricotta cheese and only a scarce amount of breadcrumbs. It needs to be said that the red sauce at Adelina is excellent—a bright and mouth-smacking concoction that, frankly, I wish reared its head more throughout the menu. Yes, good marinara is about choice ingredients, but also proper alchemy, and the chefs at Adelina are red sauce scientists.
I was always under the impression that wagyu meatballs…..well….sucked. Gimmicky and a waste of meat for the sake of nonsensical opulence, I thought. But Jesse Griffiths—an author and chef living in Austin, Texas (and also a loyal paid subscriber of The Move for tax purposes), tells me that he uses wagyu for the excellent burgers at Dai Due. Via an Instagram DM:
“We grind it for burgers and I think that’s worth it. If you have it and it’s not outlandishly expensive, I’d def go for it. It will have all the fat you need to carry texture and flavor.”
The texture and flavor of Adelina’s meatball was indeed excellent. The fat content makes it super light and flavorful. If you can fork over $21 for a meatball, hey, congrats on your generational wealth, but also Adelina’s is worth it.
Adelina
1040 Woodward Ave
Detroit, MI 48226
The best toum I’ve had in my life. holy fuck.
Call off the search for the best toum in Detroit, because I’ve found it.
By now you know that I love Middle Eastern garlic sauce, and I’ve noticed that no two are ever made the same way. Some people whip egg whites for a fluffier texture; some use potatoes for starchiness and body. Then there’s the ratio of garlic to oil, how the garlic is prepared, and perhaps most important, the quality of the garlic itself.
At Phoenicia in Birmingham, toum is called “garlic whip” and boy does that shit check out. Their toum is so god damn quintessential that Brett Anderson over at the New York Times personally called Phoenicia owner Samy Eid for the recipe. Why is Phoenicia’s toum so good? It’s a math equation, really.
Excellent quality + technique = exquisite flavor + texture.
No egg whites. No potatoes. Just top notch oil, garlic, lemon, and salt. Oh, and ice water. This garlic whip has a harmonious, addictive garlic flavor that’s just lovely. Reminder: Good toum should never taste harsh. Above, the folks at Phoenicia topped it with some Aleppo pepper, though I’m told that’s not a regular thing (I was dining with Samy.)
You can find the recipe for Phoenicia’s toum here, but I’d just go to the restaurant and get it yourself—they’re sourcing some amazing garlic from a place that shall remain nameless. Phoenicia’s whole menu is incredible, and I found myself applying toum to everything that hit the table—baby back ribs, stuffed grape leaves, pita, etc.
It’s not just the best toum I’ve had in Detroit, but the best I’ve had anywhere. I really don’t know how the ratios and ingredients themselves could be improved. Phoenicia has absolutely ruined all other toums for me. More on that later.
Updated Detroit Garlic Sauce Rankings:
Phoenicia
Cedarland
Bucharest Grill
Al Ameer
Yemen Cafe
Phoenicia
588 S Old Woodward Ave
Birmingham, MI 48009
The New Castle Special: Lamb souvlaki with pepper salad
New Castle, Pennsylvania is a town forged by people who came to work. Lebanese, Greek, Syrian, and Italian immigrants arrived to New Castle seeking jobs in the steel and tin industry, and as such, they shaped its food culture.
Lamb souvlaki—grilled lamb skewers—is one such iconic dish of New Castle. In my hometown, it’s not hamburgers and hot dogs that garner attention at a cookout, but rather it’s lamb that receives top billing. Butchers all across town cube whole legs of lamb in anticipation of the few hundred families intending to skewer them. These home cooks take the lamb chunks and marinate them in Ziplock bags with extra virgin olive oil, garlic, lemon, oregano, and pepper. Once the charcoal grill reaches its intended temperature (about 500 degrees), the lamb is stabbed through steel rods and charred to medium rare perfection.
As a kid, it was common to see lamb souvlaki on a paper plate next to Protestant potato salad and a ketchup squiggled hot dog. This 4th, however, I ate it simply with some three bean salad, tomato and garlic pasta, and barbecue chicken. I even added my own personal flare to the lamb this year—a garnish of freshly squeezed lemon and hand-ripped oregano.
And with New Castle lamb, you can’t forget the pepper salad. Hot, pickled banana peppers are soaked in oil with white onions and fresh oregano, which make for a slick, oily accompaniment to the meat and bread. Is lamb with a side car of tangy pepper salad a Western Pennsylvania/Eastern Ohio thing? I’ve searched, and I really can’t find anything about this combination online.
Oh, and the toum of my youth, which I remembered fondly, was rendered derelict in the face of Phoenicia’s. Times are changin’.
My Childhood Home
No Address
I’m not crazy
The sweet & spicy Italian sandwich at Angela’s Italian Deli in Macomb
If you follow me on Instagram, you know that I’m compiling a list of the best Italian sandwiches in Detroit for Hour Magazine. That article is set to run in their October issue, and I think I’m also doing a lil’ photo shoot for it, too. Add it to the catalogue of style shots that feature me eating on the bed of my truck.
However, that article doesn’t give me a whole lot of room to wax about the sandwiches themselves. And, what’s more, I think it might be print-only. That’s why it’s good to subscribe to The Move—you get a more detailed, honest scoop than what gets printed in papers.
Angela’s Italian sandwich ($10.99) features Genoa salami, sweet capocollo, hot soppressata, mortadella, prosciuttini, provolone, shredded lettuce, and house vinaigrette on a toasted sub roll, and it’s one of the better Italian sandos in Detroit.
That toasted sub roll reminds me very much of Bub & Grandma’s baguette, which also makes a pretty damn good Italian sandwich. Angela’s bread is crusty and hearty, but also has a fluffy interior. Despite the bread being cut the whole way through (I really wish deli joints would knock that shit off) it does hold its ingredients quite well. That’s great news because the ingredients rock.
Angela’s is the only sandwich on my Hour list to feature sweet Italian dressing. That’s right—sweet, cloying, Midwestern, podunk, ruins pasta salad, usually-from-a-fucking-bottle Italian dressing. The difference? Angela’s makes their own, and it’s pretty darn good. Herby, sweet, and still tangy, the flavor is lovely and comforting.
That dressing plays well with the other spicy ingredients, which is why the Italian sandwich at Angela’s is so damn noteworthy—the contrasting flavors rule. The honeyed dressing, when paired with hot giardiniera, makes for a fantastic spicy/sweet combo. Who else makes an Italian sandwich this way? Angela’s deli is the treasure of Macomb county, and their sandwich alone warrants multiple visits.
Angela’s Italian Deli
48852 Romeo Plank Rd
Macomb, MI 48044
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