“We need this benefit, and we need it pretty bad,” says Casey Bryant, general manager of the Midtown Food Co-Op, a tiny Central Avenue grocery that specializes in organic foods and bulk items. She’s talking about “Feast for the Senses,” an evening of dance, food, music, and art at the Buckman Performing Arts Center on Friday, July 16th. It’s an event about which Bryant has mixed feelings.

“A co-op is a business. It’s not a charity, and we shouldn’t have to have a benefit, but we have to have a benefit,” Bryant says. “I really don’t want to throw all of our soup on the table here, but the co-op is struggling. We have all this debt. We’ve not been retail-sales-inclined. We’ve not been all that good at basic things like stock analysis. But we’re working on all of that, and finally we’re starting to move in the right direction. We have to move in that direction if we want to stay in business.”

On Fridays, the Midtown Food Co-op’s parking lot becomes a farmer’s market where local organic growers peddle a variety of produce and dispense wisdom concerning the finer points of growing black-eyed Susans, picking out a good carrot, or cultivating the perfect eggplant. Inside, the grocery is calm, clean, and inviting. But the calm, it seems, is mostly superficial.

“We went through three managers in two years,” Bryant says. And the co-op’s on-again/off-again deli component has seen just as many changes. The deli space was originally leased to Memphis caterers Fascinating Foods. But that relationship didn’t work out. Another restaurant opened, flirted with success, then closed quickly. A juice bar called One Love opened and evolved into a vegan soul-food café. It closed in April 2004.

“These were all losses for us,” Bryant says. “We’re not sharks. We’re guppies. We want to be nice and swim in a school. We’ve had a lot of losses, but there have also been some people who have taken advantage of our trust and our sense of community.

“Of course, nobody who works at the co-op is experienced in retail management,” Bryant says, shrugging off the notion that the co-op is in any way the victim of “evil-doers” and taking much of the blame for the grocery’s woes onto her own shoulders. “Everybody who comes in has a huge love for the co-op, but they can’t turn their love into a managerial miracle.”

To stay competitive, the co-op is in the process of reassessing stock, cutting back on slow-moving items, and adding more customer-requested and bulk items.

“Seaweed!” exclaims Ariel Roads, the co-op’s marketing director. “We have too much seaweed.” Bryant reluctantly concedes the point.

“Sometimes we want to stock things that we think people should like because it’s wholesome,” Bryant says. “Because it’s good for you. And sometimes it’s hard to reconcile our ideals with reality.”

To help bring reality into focus, the co-op recently took a membership survey. While much of the response was positive, more than a few members noted that the store’s bread was “nasty.”

“We’re doing something about all of that,” Bryant says. “We’ve got some guys who are coming in to bake fresh bread for us, and it’s going to be good.”

On August 1st, Cakes and Things will open in the co-op’s deli space. In addition to serving coffee and fresh pastries (and supplying the grocery with bread), Cakes and Things will make baked goods to order and offer a variety of soups and sandwiches at lunchtime.

The co-op also wants to push its extensive bulk section, which includes grains, dried beans, spices, nuts, seeds, and coffee.

“Bulk just makes sense,” Bryant says. “You don’t pay for packaging, marketing, or advertising costs. You can get as much or as little of whatever you want. If you take it home and put it in your own canister, you save so much. I don’t get why so many people are so stuck on brands. Why are they so stuck on paying more for things they can’t use?”

Bryant is confident that Friday’s fund-raiser will be successful. “If nothing else,” Bryant says, “this benefit will show people just how much support we have in the community.”

“Feast for Senses” will include a silent art auction. Voices of the South, a local theater troupe known for its adaptations of classic Southern literature, will perform. Harlan T. Bobo, the charismatic bass man for Viva L’American Death Ray Music, who recently distinguished himself as a formidable singer/songwriter with his self-released CD Too Much Love, will sing his off-kilter acoustic love songs accompanied by Matador recording artist Tim Prudhomme. n

Tickets for “Feast for the Senses” are $25 for the event starting at 8 p.m. or $50 for the catered VIP preview party at 7 p.m. For tickets or more information, call the Buckman Performing Arts Center at 537-1486 or the Midtown Food Co-op at 276-2250.

by /h1>

As much as writers try to cut through all the bull perpetuated by wine snobs, there’s still a lot of misleading info out there. Take the story about sniffing corks. This age-old ritual only yields a snootful of cork and no revelation, yet lots of people still think they’re supposed to do it. Myths about everything from wine storage to wine pairings abound, and people go on believing them because nobody tells them otherwise, so consider this myth-busting:

MYTH: Red Wine Is Best With Red Meat

Although the protein in red meat can soothe a savagely tannic red wine, there’s no rule against drinking white wine instead. Don’t let the establishment lay shame on you. Be the rebel. In fact, the creaminess of Chardonnay is kind of refreshing with a juicy grilled sirloin.

MYTH: Serve Wine at Room Temperature

A long time ago when wine rules were born, room temperature in European wine cellars was 62 to 66 degrees. Here in the States, room temperatures range in the low-to mid-70s and even higher in the South. But keep in mind that the aroma and flavor of wine change radically at different temperatures, and too much heat kills off a wine’s subtleties and interesting characteristics. To demonstrate, try chilling a bottle of red wine for several hours. Taste it right after opening, then again every 10 minutes. As it warms up, different flavors will emerge. This is also pretty remarkable with white wines, which are often served way too cold in restaurants.

MYTH: All Red Wines Can Age

Ninety percent of all wines are meant to be consumed within two years after bottling. For the most part, the remaining age-worthy 10 percent are Cabernet Sauvignon, Syrah or Grenache-based wines, sturdy Pinot Noirs, some barrel-aged Chardonnays, and dessert wines. Aging tames tannins and acidity and allows the natural fruit to come forward.

MYTH: Reserve Wines Are Better Than Regular Wine

In California, the word reserve gets thrown around a lot, but there’s no official definition. This means Joe’s Winery can slap the word on the label and charge extra for no reason at all. Although some wineries use reserve legitimately for their better bottlings, without official regulations to set quality standards, be wary.

MYTH: “Single Vineyard” Wines Are Better Than

Other Wines

Single-vineyard wines (those that feature the name of the vineyard on the label) may be trendy, but they don’t guarantee quality. These wines express the character of a certain vineyard — good or bad. Blending wines made from the fruit of multiple vineyards can actually improve a wine by balancing out its flavors, acidity levels, etc.

MYTH: Rinsing Your Glass at Wine Tastings

Is a Good Thing

I have no idea where this ritual came from, but there’s no need to rinse. Essentially, this exercise will only water down the flavor of the next wine. There is, however, one situation where you’d want to rinse: if you’re changing from red to white wine because the red will discolor and change the flavor profile of the delicate white.

MYTH: Opening the Bottle Lets the Wine Breathe

Oxygen exposure can help tannic reds mellow out, but only if you pour the wine into a glass or decanter. Simply pulling the cork isn’t gonna do squat because the space between the bottle neck and the wine is too small to give the wine enough air contact. Fruity reds and most whites don’t usually need to breathe. n

In Bloom

The season of the garlic flower.

Growth comes suddenly in the garlic patch this time of year; maybe you don’t even notice until they are 6 inches long. A green shoot emerges from the top of each plant, and over the next few weeks it coils itself in circles, like a snake ready to strike.

The technical name for this beautiful and delectable apparatus is “scape.” Such a harsh name — sounds more like an injury or a disease or misplaced blame — is an injustice to the world of pleasure the name represents. That’s why I refer to them as flowers, despite the fact that botanists advise otherwise.

Whatever you call these garlic thingies, they have a mild, sweet flavor, a mesmerizing neon-green color that’s enhanced by light cooking, and a shape that’s conducive to sauce-dipping. Invite your friends to eat garlic flowers, breaded and deep-fried or roasted in olive oil. Or wrap the scapes around your wrists and traipse about like Greek gods and goddesses.

Or better yet, Asian gods and goddesses, for it was the Asians who first latched onto the pleasures of garlic flowers. The Buddha himself would have been a great fan if they didn’t make him so dang horny. Me, I ate my first garlic flowers in China, riding north on the train toward Mongolia. I made my way to the dining car, where there was no menu and where I was served stir-fried pork and chopped garlic flowers in a mild oyster sauce.

While garlic flowers have long been a seasonal delicacy across Asia, as well as in many parts of Europe, here in the the United States we are catching on slowly. And we may soon lose our chance, as the American garlic market becomes flooded with cheap garlic from China. While California supplies 85 percent of this nation’s garlic, China supplies 66 percent of the world’s garlic, a percentage that’s rapidly growing. Despite a recently imposed 367 percent tariff on Chinese garlic imports, distributors and processors in Gilroy, California — the undisputed garlic capital of America — are still buying garlic from China. Meanwhile, North American garlic production is down.

The type of garlic that’s usually grown for mass-cultivation, including the Chinese imports, is called soft-neck garlic. One of the reasons soft-neck is grown on a large scale is that it’s less labor intensive, because soft-neck garlic doesn’t produce the flowers of which I wax so fervently. And with increasing market pressure, growers will be more likely than ever to favor the soft-necks.

The flowering garlic, called hard-neck, is more labor intensive because the flowers must be picked. Otherwise, energy and resources will go to the growing cluster of miniature garlic cloves that form at the end of the flowering stalk, while the growth of the below-ground bulb — which is what goes to market — is stunted. This is the same principle that’s behind castrating meat animals, like steers and hogs. Without the need to expend bodily resources on reproduction, the animal grows larger.

Thus, whether your garlic comes from Gilroy or China, if it’s grown on a large scale it won’t flower, and that’s why the flowers are a rare sight at traditional markets. But more small-scale, gourmet growers are turning to hard-neck garlic, for a number of reasons: It tastes better, peels like a prom dress, produces beautifully symmetrical bulbs, and sends up those delectable flowers. If you are lucky enough to get your hands on some, there is no better way to usher in the garlic season.

With these curly-stocking-capped morsels, you can do anything you would do with regular garlic. Or capitalize on the shape for presentation points. Steam them like asparagus and serve drizzled in lemon butter aside broiled antelope back strap or add a few to a simmering Thai coconut chicken soup, two minutes before serving, and watch them curl around the bowl.

If you want to find garlic flowers, visit a farmer’s market or try the specialty produce shops. If you still can’t find any, hop online and go to http://www.dakotagarlic.com/garlic_scapes.htm. Dakota Garlic is a family farm in North Dakota specializing in many varieties of hard-neck garlic, which means they have plenty of flowers, and they will be happy to ship you some. They also have a recipe page full of garlic flowers tips.

And if you are lucky enough to have some garlic in the ground, pick the flowers before they start to uncurl. I like to pull straight up, a smooth gentle tug, like pulling a blade of grass. Sometimes the flower stalk breaks deep inside the plant, and what slides out is the most tender bit of garlic flavor you can imagine. In a brown paper bag in the fridge, they will keep for weeks. But as with most produce, fresh is best. n

This story originally appeared in the Missoula Independent.

by Ari LeVaux

Hard To Swallow

A few myths about wine.

by Taylor Eason

As much as writers try to cut through all the bull perpetuated by wine snobs, there’s still a lot of misleading info out there. Take the story about sniffing corks. This age-old ritual only yields a snootful of cork and no revelation, yet lots of people still think they’re supposed to do it. Myths about everything from wine storage to wine pairings abound, and people go on believing them because nobody tells them otherwise, so consider this myth-busting:

MYTH: Red Wine Is Best With Red Meat

Although the protein in red meat can soothe a savagely tannic red wine, there’s no rule against drinking white wine instead. Don’t let the establishment lay shame on you. Be the rebel. In fact, the creaminess of Chardonnay is kind of refreshing with a juicy grilled sirloin.

MYTH: Serve Wine at Room Temperature

A long time ago when wine rules were born, room temperature in European wine cellars was 62 to 66 degrees. Here in the States, room temperatures range in the low-to mid-70s and even higher in the South. But keep in mind that the aroma and flavor of wine change radically at different temperatures, and too much heat kills off a wine’s subtleties and interesting characteristics. To demonstrate, try chilling a bottle of red wine for several hours. Taste it right after opening, then again every 10 minutes. As it warms up, different flavors will emerge. This is also pretty remarkable with white wines, which are often served way too cold in restaurants.

MYTH: All Red Wines Can Age

Ninety percent of all wines are meant to be consumed within two years after bottling. For the most part, the remaining age-worthy 10 percent are Cabernet Sauvignon, Syrah or Grenache-based wines, sturdy Pinot Noirs, some barrel-aged Chardonnays, and dessert wines. Aging tames tannins and acidity and allows the natural fruit to come forward.

MYTH: Reserve Wines Are Better Than Regular Wine

In California, the word reserve gets thrown around a lot, but there’s no official definition. This means Joe’s Winery can slap the word on the label and charge extra for no reason at all. Although some wineries use reserve legitimately for their better bottlings, without official regulations to set quality standards, be wary.

MYTH: “Single Vineyard” Wines Are Better Than

Other Wines

Single-vineyard wines (those that feature the name of the vineyard on the label) may be trendy, but they don’t guarantee quality. These wines express the character of a certain vineyard — good or bad. Blending wines made from the fruit of multiple vineyards can actually improve a wine by balancing out its flavors, acidity levels, etc.

MYTH: Rinsing Your Glass at Wine Tastings

Is a Good Thing

I have no idea where this ritual came from, but there’s no need to rinse. Essentially, this exercise will only water down the flavor of the next wine. There is, however, one situation where you’d want to rinse: if you’re changing from red to white wine because the red will discolor and change the flavor profile of the delicate white.

MYTH: Opening the Bottle Lets the Wine Breathe

Oxygen exposure can help tannic reds mellow out, but only if you pour the wine into a glass or decanter. Simply pulling the cork isn’t gonna do squat because the space between the bottle neck and the wine is too small to give the wine enough air contact. Fruity reds and most whites don’t usually need to breathe.

Growth comes suddenly in the garlic patch this time of year; maybe you don’t even notice until they are 6 inches long. A green shoot emerges from the top of each plant, and over the next few weeks it coils itself in circles, like a snake ready to strike.

The technical name for this beautiful and delectable apparatus is “scape.” Such a harsh name — sounds more like an injury or a disease or misplaced blame — is an injustice to the world of pleasure the name represents. That’s why I refer to them as flowers, despite the fact that botanists advise otherwise.

Whatever you call these garlic thingies, they have a mild, sweet flavor, a mesmerizing neon-green color that’s enhanced by light cooking, and a shape that’s conducive to sauce-dipping. Invite your friends to eat garlic flowers, breaded and deep-fried or roasted in olive oil. Or wrap the scapes around your wrists and traipse about like Greek gods and goddesses.

Or better yet, Asian gods and goddesses, for it was the Asians who first latched onto the pleasures of garlic flowers. The Buddha himself would have been a great fan if they didn’t make him so dang horny. Me, I ate my first garlic flowers in China, riding north on the train toward Mongolia. I made my way to the dining car, where there was no menu and where I was served stir-fried pork and chopped garlic flowers in a mild oyster sauce.

While garlic flowers have long been a seasonal delicacy across Asia, as well as in many parts of Europe, here in the the United States we are catching on slowly. And we may soon lose our chance, as the American garlic market becomes flooded with cheap garlic from China. While California supplies 85 percent of this nation’s garlic, China supplies 66 percent of the world’s garlic, a percentage that’s rapidly growing. Despite a recently imposed 367 percent tariff on Chinese garlic imports, distributors and processors in Gilroy, California — the undisputed garlic capital of America — are still buying garlic from China. Meanwhile, North American garlic production is down.

The type of garlic that’s usually grown for mass-cultivation, including the Chinese imports, is called soft-neck garlic. One of the reasons soft-neck is grown on a large scale is that it’s less labor intensive, because soft-neck garlic doesn’t produce the flowers of which I wax so fervently. And with increasing market pressure, growers will be more likely than ever to favor the soft-necks.

The flowering garlic, called hard-neck, is more labor intensive because the flowers must be picked. Otherwise, energy and resources will go to the growing cluster of miniature garlic cloves that form at the end of the flowering stalk, while the growth of the below-ground bulb — which is what goes to market — is stunted. This is the same principle that’s behind castrating meat animals, like steers and hogs. Without the need to expend bodily resources on reproduction, the animal grows larger.

Thus, whether your garlic comes from Gilroy or China, if it’s grown on a large scale it won’t flower, and that’s why the flowers are a rare sight at traditional markets. But more small-scale, gourmet growers are turning to hard-neck garlic, for a number of reasons: It tastes better, peels like a prom dress, produces beautifully symmetrical bulbs, and sends up those delectable flowers. If you are lucky enough to get your hands on some, there is no better way to usher in the garlic season.

With these curly-stocking-capped morsels, you can do anything you would do with regular garlic. Or capitalize on the shape for presentation points. Steam them like asparagus and serve drizzled in lemon butter aside broiled antelope back strap or add a few to a simmering Thai coconut chicken soup, two minutes before serving, and watch them curl around the bowl.

If you want to find garlic flowers, visit a farmer’s market or try the specialty produce shops. If you still can’t find any, hop online and go to http://www.dakotagarlic.com/garlic_scapes.htm. Dakota Garlic is a family farm in North Dakota specializing in many varieties of hard-neck garlic, which means they have plenty of flowers, and they will be happy to ship you some. They also have a recipe page full of garlic flowers tips.

And if you are lucky enough to have some garlic in the ground, pick the flowers before they start to uncurl. I like to pull straight up, a smooth gentle tug, like pulling a blade of grass. Sometimes the flower stalk breaks deep inside the plant, and what slides out is the most tender bit of garlic flavor you can imagine. In a brown paper bag in the fridge, they will keep for weeks. But as with most produce, fresh is best.

This story originally appeared in the Missoula Independent.

Here’s the dish for those who plan to drag out the picnic basket, grab a blanket, and find a spot to watch the sparks fly on the Fourth of July.

Firework displays are scheduled all over town. Bartlett will present “Fireworks Extravaganza” at the Bobby K. Flaherty Municipal Center on Saturday, July 3rd, from 6 to 10 p.m. On Sunday, there will be festivities at H.W. Cox Park in Collierville, at Shelby Farms for FM 100’s Independence Day Celebration, and at Tom Lee Park for AutoZone’s “4th of July Red, White, & Blues Celebration.”

Vendors will be serving typical fair foods at each event, but participants may also bring food and drinks with the exception of glass containers and alcohol.

Shelby Farms has a few grills and tables in the picnic pavilions. However, the best views for the fireworks are from the front lawn area. For those headed downtown, skip the picnic and enter the hot-wing or hot-dog eating contests held in Tom Lee Park.

Want the picnic without the hassle? Pre-order or just stop by Miss Cordelia’s Grocery, 737 Harbor Bend Road, in Harbor Town, which will be open from 7 a.m. to 9 p.m. on the Fourth. For $7.95, the deli offers pasta salad, all-American apple pie, and a choice of four gourmet sandwiches served on fresh-baked focaccia or ciabatta bread.

“We will have the ‘Red, White and Blue’ roast beef with Gorgonzola and a creamy horseradish sauce; ‘Blazing Buffalo’ roasted chicken with cheddar, bacon, and tomato; maple-glazed honey turkey with Monterey jack; and rosemary, sun-dried tomato, and ham with Swiss,” says deli manager Carl Wallin.

In Midtown, Square Foods Natural Market, 2094 Madison, will be closed on the Fourth but will prepare box lunches for advance orders. For $20, each box will include a choice of free-range chicken tenders, roasted vegetables with portobello mushrooms, or Santa Fe-style turkey breast with tomatoes, sprouts, and avocado served on Juniper Bakery’s struan bread or a spinach tortilla wrap, plus organic fruit, olives, homemade oatmeal cookies, and a choice of the boldly named “Memphis’ Best Potato Salad” or the “Best Ever Pasta Salad.”

“Memphis’ Best Potato Salad has been around forever,” says Square Foods owner Jeanice Blancett. “It is light on the mayo and is neither super-sweet nor super-tangy.”

“From Russia with love for the children,” says Café Samovar owner Gregory Sadetsky about the upcoming dinner and wine tasting to benefit the kids at St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital.

The story of one girl touched Sadetsky and his wife and inspired them to host a charity event at their downtown restaurant at 7 p.m. on July 8th.

“St. Jude helps many children, even as far away as Russia,” says Sadetsky. “One Russian girl came to St. Jude because she had leukemia, and they saved her life. Now she’s okay.”

The five-course dinner will feature a choice of three entrées: duck breast, beef tenderloin, or sea bass and will be accompanied by a sampling of wines.

Café Samovar, 83 Union Avenue, specializes in Russian-American cuisine. The cost is $40 per person. Call 529-9607 to make reservations or for more information.

The Midtown Food Co-op is also holding a fund-raiser, “Feast for the Senses,” a silent art auction and an evening of music, dance, and spoken-word performances, July 16th at the Buckman Performing & Fine Arts Center

“It’s going to be a beautiful event,” says Ariel Roads, the co-op’s events manager. “But it’s not just for fun. It’s important for us to raise some money. We will use a large portion of the money to make improvements to the store.”

The Midtown Food Co-op, 2158 Central Avenue, is a small healthy-foods grocery that opened in 2001 to provide the more than 500 members with natural and organic products and hormone-free meats and dairy products. As a co-op, it is owned by its members and governed by a board of directors, and any profit is reinvested into the co-op.

“It will be the biggest event we’ve put on thus far,” says Roads. “There will be food and drinks, and Voices of the South will be doing a theater piece. Mark Allen will play either classical or flamenco guitar. The biggest draw will probably be Harlan T. Bobo and Tim Prudhomme, but it’s not going to be a rock show, just a duo session.”

In addition to other dance performances and storytelling by Judy Card, local artists (many of whom are also co-op members) have donated their work for the auction.

Tickets cost $25 for the event starting at 8 p.m. or $50 for the catered VIP preview party that begins at 7 p.m. and will feature a special guest performance. For tickets or more information, call the Buckman Center box office at 537-1486 or the Midtown Food Co-op at 276-2250.

You’ve seen it a dozen times in movies and on TV: Two doctors are standing shoulder-to-shoulder in the food line of the hospital’s strictly functional, monochromatic cafeteria. As they slide their trays down the counter, pausing every so often to accept a plate of nondescript meat, something green, a carton of milk, and maybe a dish of Jell-O, they argue in sharp whispers: “Dammit, doctor, if you don’t operate, the patient will die.” Then one of them throws a handful of bills at the cashier and stomps off.

The scene above is a cliché that is becoming, well, a cliché. There may still be doctor dramas, but the sterile cafeteria with its forgettable food is being replaced in hospitals nationwide by something all-around more appealing, something like the Vines Cafe inside Baptist Memorial Hospital for Women.

The Vines Cafe, which opened in May 2001 along with the hospital, has artwork and outdoor seating. There are lots of windows that let the sun in and provide a view of a large fountain in the cafe’s courtyard.

According to Ralph Carmouche, director of food and nutrition services for the women’s hospital, “You’re seeing this trend of more upscale cafes in newer hospitals, because it’s easier for them to go ahead and build a new, nicer cafe than it would be for an older hospital to remake one.”

The Vines is open for breakfast, lunch, and dinner throughout the week and has rotating lunch and dinner menus with such items as chicken, ribs, and Southern fried catfish, greens, fried okra, and fried green tomatoes. In addition to food, the cafe offers a wide selection of exotic coffee blends, cappuccinos, and caffe mochas. There is also a candy stand and an ice cream area.

The cafe’s customers mostly include hospital employees, who, Carmouche admits, are a “captive audience.”

“After employees, of course,” says Carmouche, “we’ll see visitors and family members frequent the cafeteria, and we also sometimes allow patients to choose from the cafeteria menu as long as it doesn’t interfere with their prescribed diet.”

People from the surrounding community also frequent the cafe. “In fact, I know of one gentleman who told me he bypasses just about everything to come in and eat with us about once a day,” Carmouche says. “I also know of an elderly couple who comes in regularly for lunch. Those kinds of things are encouraging to me.”

Carmouche says the cafe also attracts visitors from Baptist’s corporate offices. “We really have good food that people enjoy and really good prices, and that’s what keeps people coming back, no matter who they are,” Carmouche says.

Carmouche has the figures to back up his claims. The cafe regularly sends out customer-satisfaction surveys, which average about 96 percent positive.

“When we do those, we survey everybody, both our outside and internal customers,” he says. “We always get a lot of comments and compliments.”

The Vines Cafe, 6225 Humphreys Boulevard, inside Baptist Memorial Hospital for Women, is open Monday through Friday for breakfast from 7 to 10 a.m., lunch from 11 a.m. to 2 p.m., dinner from 4:30 to 6:30 p.m., and Saturday and Sunday from 11 a.m. to 2 p.m.

“This sounds like fiction, but it’s not. This is how it happened. I’m with my friend. We’re sitting on her veranda, having some wine. ‘I’m going to open up a restaurant.’ I say, and she says, ‘How much money have you got?’ ‘Well I’ve got 27 cents. Nothing.'”

So says John Gegumis, the chef-owner of O Kypos, a tiny Greek diner just off the corner of Adams and Front. His palm hits his forehead. His eyes roll back. He shrugs as if to say, Everybody knows you can’t just open a restaurant with pocket change.

“I’d been a painting contractor for 30 years,” Gegumis says. “So I went out and painted a house. I got some money. I got this location, went out and bought two chickens and a leg of lamb. I sold it all on the first day. So I went out and bought four chickens and two legs of lamb. And that’s how O Kypos got started.”

To clarify, that’s how O Kypos opened, not how it started. The actual story sounds even more like something right out of a Hollywood screenplay.

“I moved to Greece about eight years ago with the idea that I was never coming back to the United States,” Gegumis says. He was middle-aged and tired of the grind. He was ready to find his joy.

“I have a house right on the Mediterranean. It’s a little paradise, and I was going there to live permanently with my family, who are all in the restaurant business. We’ve got bakers, fishermen, and those who own tavernas. During the day, I’d make chandeliers out of olive wood, brass, and copper. At night, I’d go to O Kypos — the garden.”

The original O Kypos is a taverna on Kalamaki beach where Gegumis would sit at the open bar and watch the world go by. Or maybe he would work in the kitchen soaking up all his family’s secrets.

“Sometimes I’d go snorkeling,” Gegumis says. “There was this one place where there were so many octopus. So I’d spear my own octopus, take it home, and cook it.”

Gegumis was also inspired by the fact that he was living on a beach where the Apostle Paul used to hang his halo.

“Every day I was walking in the footsteps of Paul,” he says reverently. “It was paradise. And, as I’m sure everybody knows, there’s only one thing that can make a man leave paradise.”

Gegumis got married, had a daughter, and that prompted him to move back to Memphis with all his family recipes.

“The really great thing is that the food you’re going to eat here in Memphis is exactly the same as if you were having it on Kalamaki beach,” Gegumis brags. “It’s the exact same ingredients, prepared exactly the same way. This is like my little Greek island in downtown Memphis.”

For lunch, O Kypos offers a gyro, the ubiquitous Greek sandwich that’s become synonymous with convenience-store cuisine. But don’t expect cliché. Rather than buying pre-made slabs of skewered mystery meat, Gegumis prepares his gyros from scratch with a blend of lamb and sirloin, roasted separately, then combined and grilled to order. The Greek salad is a real Greek salad — no lettuce. It’s a blend of cucumber, red onion, bell peppers, and olives tossed with oregano, drizzled with Greek olive oil, and topped with herbed feta.

O Kypo’s menu is built around traditional Mediterranean fare: spanakopita, souvlaki, lamb, and pastitsio. The moussaka, a Greek-style lasagna with layers of potatoes and eggplant stuffed with cinnamon- and allspice-scented beef, takes two days to prepare. Seafood dishes include calamari, garlic shrimp, and grilled swordfish. But there are some surprises as well.

Hat-tipping its hometown, O Kypos also serves smoky Memphis-style lamb ribs, a perfect marriage of Mid-South and Mediterranean sensibilities.

“I think that’s what’s attractive about Greek food to Memphians,” Gegumis says. “We’re all big barbecuers; we love our grills. But the biggest problem with selling the lam-b-cue is trying to pry customers away from the gyro. Everybody loves a gyro.”

Gegumis always admired Thomas Stergios, the dearly departed owner of the recently closed Melo’s Taverna, because Stergios was able to bring an authentic family feeling to his restaurant.

“Tommy would always come around to every table,” Gegumis says. “He would always come around to talk to you or to see how you were doing. I have a great staff. We all have a very personal family-type relationship, and I think that the customers can really feel that. It’s important to me that O Kypos feels like a family restaurant.”

O Kypos is located at 100 N. Front (864-1008). Customers may park for free in the garage at the Comfort Inn.

by Chris Davis

Food NEWS

“If you don’t like grits or never tried grits, come down and taste the difference in the way we make them,” says Kevin Shockency, co-owner of Memphis Grits, which opens the first of July at 22 S. Main.

When owners Shockency and Steven Leake decided to open Memphis Grits, they sought out fresh ingredients made locally: honey from Collierville, produce grown in Ripley, hand-rolled sausage, and, of course, stone-ground corn grits. They wanted to revitalize the “farm-fresh Southern comfort food” they remember from their childhoods.

As a boy in Kentucky, Shockency would stand on his tiptoes to watch his mother make wedding cakes and would later help his father in the family’s catering business. At 18, his mother sent him to culinary school in Indiana. He has since graduated from the Culinary Institute of America in New York and worked in New Orleans and Atlanta. He will continue his position as executive chef at the Memphis Hunt and Polo Club.

Leake, one of 11 children, also learned to cook at home while growing up in Nesbit, Mississippi. But it was his first job in the kitchen at Memphis’ old Crowne Plaza Hotel that inspired him to make a career of cooking. Now he owns Premier Catering and Ice Sculptures and is an instructor and program director of hospitality management at Southwest Tennessee Community College.

“We’re just a couple good ol’ boys who learned great Southern cooking from our parents and other talented chefs around the country,” says Shockency.

In addition to grits, the menu at Memphis Grits includes buttermilk biscuits, ham, and a “Kool-Aid of the day.”

The restaurant will initially be open for breakfast and lunch, Monday through Saturday 6 a.m. to 4 p.m. However, Shockency and Leake plan to offer upscale dining beginning August 1st. The dinner menu will still include grits — with a twist.

“The grits we’ll be doing for dinner will be Southern fusion delicacies, such as oregano-crusted veal served on a bed of grits with sun-dried tomatoes, calamite olives, and feta cheese,” says Shockency.

In its first month in business, Memphis’ Crescent City, at 1315 Ridgeway, surpassed sales at the other 16 locations in California, Georgia, Utah, and Texas, says general manager Jaison Boyd.

The New Orleans-style franchise serves beignets, “eggs NOLA” with peppers, onions, ham, and cheese, and other breakfast items all day. For lunch and dinner, authentic Creole dishes and po’ boys are prepared by New Orleans chef Paul Isabelle.

Crescent City is a fast-growing chain. Including the five additional locations planned for the greater Memphis area, there are more than 80 locations scheduled to be built from California to Florida. The franchise is based on the increasingly popular “fast-casual” concept.

The Memphis location has some unique features.

“This is the first Crescent City to have a patio, and on Friday and Saturday nights, we will have a jazz band playing out there,” says Boyd.

The restaurant opens Monday through Sunday at 9 a.m. and closes at 10 p.m. throughout the week and 11 p.m. on Friday and Saturday.

Dino and Tracey Grisanti will open their home’s kitchen to kids who want to learn the art of cooking. Dino, chef at Dino’s Grill on McLean, patterned his summer program, Kids Kulinary, after the classes his mother Sue Wynne has taught for 15 years.

The week-long, three-hour classes teach food preparation, safety, table manners, clean-up, and tips on making international foods, and sweets.

“We will also have a teen-age class to make pizzas and different snacks for parties and a couple of adult classes,” says Dino.

The kids’ camp costs $125 per session and “Teen Night,” June 30th, costs $25. Adult classes are $35. Call 278-5279 for a complete schedule.

The Blue Monkey, the pub ON FRONT Street opened last June by the owners of Midtown’s the Blue Monkey Pizza & Potations, has revamped its menu.

The powers-that-be decided to “lighten it up and try some new things,” says part owner Mike Johnson.

They eliminated some heavy pastas and added more appetizers. The fried grouper entrée became a po’ boy sandwich. And they introduced some California-style dishes, such as the veggie sandwich with avocados, tomatoes, and Swiss.

“We didn’t want to make too many changes. We feel that the menu worked from day one,” says Johnson. “We’ve had a great response from this neighborhood and our friends in Midtown.”

by Sonia Alexander Hill

Ask any serious weekend angler and he’ll tell you straight-up: I only work to support my nasty fishing habit. But what about the guy who has made fishing his full-time job? What does this lucky fellow dream of doing when beer-o’clock rolls around on Friday?

“Well, just to tell you the truth, every now and then I go fishing,” says Hugh Tate. A lean, gangly fellow with freckled skin, beet-red from too many seasons in the sun, Tate is the longtime commercial fisherman who opened Catch’em Lake on October 1, 2003, at the Agricenter.

Now ask any serious foodie, and he’ll tell you straight-up: There is no substitute for a fresh fish. The less time it’s been out of the water, the better it’s going to taste, no question. Catch’em Lake is a group of generously stocked ponds filled with grain-fed fish just waiting to be caught, cleaned, battered, and fried up by anybody with a pole, a couple of bucks, and an hour or two to waste in the sun.

“These two ponds are stocked strictly with one- to eight-pound catfish,” Tate says. “I’m working on a farm back here that I’ll stock with bass, brim, and crappie. I’m also working on another pond where, in the wintertime, I’m going to offer rainbow-trout fishing.” And that’s not all.

“I’m going to do crawfish also,” he says. “That’s about my number-one priority — getting the crawfish in here and getting that going. I’ll purge the crawfish before you take ’em home, so they’ll be ready to go.”

Etouffée, anybody?

It costs two bucks for an adult to fish at Catch’em Lake and only a dollar for kids under 12. There’s no catch and release. You catch it, you’ve bought it for $1.45 a pound. If you want to have your fish cleaned, that’s an additional 25 cents a pound.

“Cleaning is mostly a public service,” Tate says. “Because 25 cents a pound isn’t anything to clean a fish. Not if you’ve ever done it before. Nobody wants to take the fish home and clean them, and they don’t want to hold the guts around in the garbage can.”

“There used to be a fish farm here a long time ago. I used to work for the people who ran it, and I’ve always wanted to come back and get all of that going again,” Tate says. “The Agricenter had some commercial fish farmers that wanted to lease this property to raise fish, but [the Agricenter’s board of directors] wanted to make something on the property that was more family-oriented with a lot of public involvement. And that’s what I wanted to do. So I submitted my proposal to the president of the Agricenter, and he submitted it to the board. They said go with it, and that’s what I’ve been doing ever since.”

It’s a job that Tate, who once ran hoop nets on the shallow back channels of the Mississippi River, clearly loves.

“Tell the truth, I almost live out here,” he says with a laugh. “And everybody who comes is great because they’re already in a good mood. They’re going fishing.”

According to Tate, Catch’em Lake is starting to catch on with Memphians.

“Things are growing pretty steadily,” he says. “I already had to go ahead and open this second lake to accommodate all the people. They’ve got [fishing] reels that are so much better than what they used to have. You had people casting all the way across the water, and lines getting crossed. We had to have more room.”

In addition to maintaining the fishing ponds, Tate is starting to grow his own catfish. He has 40 spawning cans — five-gallon plastic buckets — submerged in one pond. The female catfish goes into the bucket to lay her eggs. The male then fertilizes the eggs and fans them with his tail until they hatch.

“What I do is pull the eggs out before they hatch,” Tate says. “I take them up to a vat with a current going in it and an aerator, and I hatch them out of there. After they hatch and have used up all their feed sacks, I’ll move them over to the big pond. If I run all the cans and I’ve got half my cans with eggs in them, that’s pushing 50 to 100,00 eggs. That’s an estimate.”

Even if the hatchery is a success Catch’em Lake’s fishing ponds will continue to be stocked with grain-fed fish raised on Mississippi farms.

“Feed costs are so high,” Tate says. “And it would take two years of feeding [the fish I raise] before I could transplant them to the [fishing] pond. I’ll probably just raise fish to fingerling size then sell them to people who want to stock their ponds.”

Is there a secret to pulling the big one out of Catch’em Lake? Not really. According to Tate, all anybody needs is some 20-pound test line and some chicken livers.

“Catch’em Lake’s mostly about having a place where a family can have fun,” he says. “But you should be able to catch something.”

Remember, fish fans: Before you can fry it, grill it, poach it, bake it, or mount it on the wall, somebody’s got to catch it. Might as well be you.

Catch’em Lake is open dawn to dusk seven days a week. For those who like to do their fishing at night, Tate plans to keep the facility open 24 hours on the last Saturday of every month. There’s no fishing license required, and Catch’em Lake offers a full-service bait shop.

Buoyed by the spring weather, we found ourselves daydreaming about tropical beaches and craving seafood. So we ventured downtown to Aristi’s, located on Monroe Avenue in the former site of a Melting Pot restaurant.

Aristi’s is an atmospheric and neighborhoody place. A small, street-front entrance serves as a gateway to a sunken, cozy bar, an elevated dining area, and, if the restaurant is busy, a downstairs dining room. A beautiful wood bar seats about 15 and doubles as the designated smoking area. The walls are painted brick-red, and Caribbean-inspired paintings and ironworks adorn the walls. The upstairs dining room seats 50 comfortably and has a back-wall booth.

On our two visits, the service was excellent. We were seated as soon as we arrived by a very pleasant hostess, then our waitress introduced herself and quickly took our drink order, giving us time to peruse the menu.

To kick things off on our first visit, we ordered the empanadas. The ravioli-sized pastries were made with a cornmeal crust and stuffed with a savory meat and potato filling. These empanadas were baked and came with a spicy fresh salsa of tomatoes, onion, peppers, and a hint of habanero — a fine companion. The appetizer was tasty. So tasty, in fact, we ate them all, with only the empty dish covered with a greasy white napkin as evidence that the empanadas ever existed.

On our second visit, we tried the yuca and “Robert’s BBQ Shrimp” as appetizers. The yuca, or cassava, is a long brown root similar to the potato and is native to South America. Aristi’s version came deep-fried and served with a mojo/mole sauce, typically made with garlic, lard, olive oil, citrus, and onion. The pungent Creole garlic sauce was excellent and definitely great for sharing. The shrimp dish is the namesake of one of the owners and was perfectly grilled, then brushed with a spicy, fruit-enhanced barbecue sauce and served over basmati rice. This was my favorite appetizer.

We also ordered the “Cuban Veggie Salad” — greens topped with grilled eggplant, red and green bell peppers, onion, zucchini, and basil. A Cuban mojo dressing accompanied the salad. The flavors of the salad blended extremely well with the dressing. It’s sizable, though, so I suggest ordering the salad as an entrÇe or sharing it with a friend.

One entrÇe we ordered was the beef chimichurri. The two, four-ounce cuts of beef were cooked well-done when we’d asked for medium-well. But the chimichurri — a ubiquitous condiment for grilled meat in Argentina — was a mÇlange of pureed parsley, oregano, onion, garlic, salt, pepper, vinegar, and olive oil, and it added a nice twist. The sides for the steaks were garlic potatoes and a basic carrot and broccoli, mixed-vegetable dish.

The jerked scallops, unlike the steak, were undercooked and bathed in a floral and overpowering jerk sauce. They were a disappointment. I tried to cut the jerk seasoning with the rice side and vegetable medley, to no avail.

On our second trip, we ordered the red snapper with papaya chutney and the arroz con pollo. Two red snapper filets had been lightly breaded, sautÇed, and then smothered in sweet and spicy papaya chutney. The fish proved deliciously flaky yet firm. When the menu says they drench the fish in the chutney, they mean it. Large chunks of fruit, vinegar, sugar, and spices made for a delicious accompaniment, but a little could have gone a long way. The snapper came with saffron rice and sautÇed mixed vegetables. A fairly good dish overall, but I am not sure it commanded $23. There wasn’t much chicken in the arroz con pollo, but it had a nice, fresh flavor.

Desserts vary nightly. On our first visit,the key lime pie tasted more like cheesecake. The bread pudding, however, was divine — rich slices of warm cinnamon and egg-custard-soaked bread drizzled with a luscious sauce and pecans. Go for it. On our second visit, we had the flan, and it too was delicious. n

Aristi’s, 126-128 Monroe (527-6930), is open for lunch Monday through Friday from 11 a.m. to 2 p.m. and for dinner Monday through Thursday from 4 to 10 p.m.; Friday from 4 to 11 p.m.; and Saturday from 5 to 11 p.m. Lunch prices range from $2 to $9.25 and dinner from $7.25 to $25.

The Other Down Under

South Africa’s wineries have finally released their prized beasts. For years, they selfishly hoarded their better wines, exporting the generic stuff. Once they realized the rest of the world had taste too, the South African wine exporters started pondering the profits they could reap. Among the wines they’ve loosed on the U.S. market in the past few years are crisp, grapefruit-laden Sauvignon Blancs, so much like the excellent New Zealands that a double take is in order. Also worth checking out are their smooth, melony Chardonnays and funky, fruity Shiraz.

Carb Counters Rejoice

Although I doubt the labels will hype “low carb,” wineries may now list calorie and carbohydrate content. Mainly a ruling to appease beer manufacturers looking to market their lite products, it also applies to wineries and spirits companies. Although only voluntary adherence is suggested, listing the carb and calorie content will, we hope, promote the inclusion of legitimate nutritional information in America. In addition to labeling, wineries may also use the information in advertising, which will be heavily policed.

Trading Cork for Cardboard?

Yes. Boxed wine, rendered decidedly un-chic, is making a comeback. With cork prices on the rise and (up to 15 percent spoilage), upscale winemakers are banking on the newly rebirthed trend.

The “bag in a box,” so-named because the cardboard box houses a heavy plastic lining filled with wine, is equipped with a spigot that doesn’t allow oxygen — wine’s nemesis — to enter the remaining liquid. The bag collapses as you draw wine out, so, once opened, the wine stays fresh for up to three months, compared to the maximum four or five days associated with corks and even screwtops. That spells fresh wine every day without having to reach for a corkscrew or worry about spoilage.

But in this new life, wine-in-a-box has a more upscale name: “cask” wine. The industry is hoping that Americans, a leading consumer of wines, forget the old image of the box and embrace the value and good sense of the packaging. Most casks come in three-liter containers, the equivalent of four bottles, and are priced at a bargain three-bottle cost. The tall, squarish shape conveniently fits in the fridge or on the countertop and features a handle for easy portability.

Per usual, the innovative, risk-taking Aussies lead the cask charge. Nearly half of all Australia’s wine sales are in boxes. Hardy’s, one of Australia’s leading wineries, recently launched their premium varietal cask line, called Stamp of Australia, with a delicious Shiraz and Chardonnay. Banrock Station, owned by the same company, also has a line of cask wines. Here at home, California producers such as Blackstone sell Black Box, a cask featuring their immensely popular Napa Merlot.

Does it work, you might ask? Hell yes. I have an opened cask of California Zinfandel on my kitchen counter that has remained fresh for two months now. It lacks a bit of its original zing, but it’s still holding strong. Ask your local wine retailer about getting your hands around this box trend. n

Recommended

Wines

Boschendal 2003 Grand Cuvée Sauvignon Blanc — From the coastal region of South Africa comes an approachable, tart, grassy Sauvignon Blanc. Peaches, lemon, and melon play a big part in making this a refreshing gulp. $14.

Adelsheim 2001 Pinot Noir Yamhill County Elizabeth’s Reserve — Absolutely seductive with a veritable bouquet of aromas and flavors seducing your senses. Elegant lavender, delicious blackberry, and silky black cherry caress your tongue. $35. n

It was only the third day, and all my FlexPoints were gone. Probably shouldn’t have gone to the deli so early in the week. And yet there I was, looking at a dessert called Ship Goes to Pieces Against the Rocks: mint ice cream on a brownie with fudge sauce streaked with raspberry. Must be 37 points in that damn thing, and it’s winkin’ at me.

This is the part where I use one of my Tools for Success. I’m supposed to remember why I’m doing it, remind myself that the goal is worthwhile, that I am worthwhile, something like that. I’m also supposed to have rehearsed for this moment, watched myself succeed in “the movie.” Or I shouldn’t be here at all, should have said no, or checked in with my buddy beforehand, asked for his support, asked him to not let me order dessert. All those shouldas, and now the Ship is headed straight for the Rocks.

It’ll be tough to explain to the women on Wednesday. Of course, there will be nods of understanding, but there will also be subtle mumblings of how I had been doing so well. There’s a mountain of rationalizations available — you’re in it for the long haul, give yourself a reward, make it up next week, learn a lesson about what I was thinking beforehand — but the truth is, the last thought that went through my head was “To hell with it. Gimme the menu!”

It’s a good thing I’m not on a diet or anything. I can’t imagine a diet that has room in it for Ship Goes to Pieces Against the Rocks. People see the weight that I’ve lost and assume I’m doing Atkins or South Beach or who knows what, then hear me talking about ice cream and peanut butter and jelly and a new kind of bacon I’m trying out, and they kind of look at me funny.

Often that funny look turns to shock when I tell them I’m going old-school: Weight Watchers. More than a few people have asked the same question I wondered about: Do they let men into that program? The answer, I have found, is yes, but the first time I walked in, it was me and about 35 women.

So it was that I was introduced to the Points. The Points come from some mysterious combination of dietary fiber, fat grams, and calories. This seems an appropriate time to point out that virtually no one knows what dietary fiber, fat grams, or calories are. Still, from the ooze of the unknown emerge the Points, doled out to us like an allowance: a certain number per day, with more earned through exercise, plus the FlexPoints, to be used whenever we like during the week.

During the week the Ship hit the Rocks, I had gone to a New York-style deli and ordered a corned beef and pastrami sloppy joe, with a side of macaroni salad. You get 35 FlexPoints in a week. When I added up the score of that sandwich, I gave up at 30 and didn’t even deal with the salad. The ladies cringed when I told them this, but the program does allow for the occasional bender — and oh have I bent.

The vibe at the meetings is considerably female and overtly cheery. Our leader claps a lot, and when you do good things, like exercise for 20 minutes four times a week, you get colorful little stickers to put on your record book. Five-pound milestones get you a star, and when you lose 10 percent of your starting weight you get to — no, you have to — get up and testify how good you feel about yourself. The fact that it’s true — I’m a “10-percenter” and have testified honestly to these things — doesn’t change the fact that it’s quite Stuart Smalley: “I’m thin enough, and gosh darnit, people like me!”

We also trade recipes, tips, and “food finds.” Perhaps the oddest recent milestone in my life was looking at the nutritional information on a fudge pop, realizing it’s only a point per pop and thinking, Dang, I’ve gotta tell the group about this!

Or asking the staff at Popeyes if they had nutritional info on their Web site.

Yes, it’s come to that. And no, they don’t do nutritional information at Popeyes. It’s like asking for a price at a Jaguar dealership, both in principle and in the numbers that pop up.

The thing about Weight Watchers is that when all the points are done, and your little book is covered with colorful fruit stickers and shiny five-pound stars, it boils down to a very non-quick-fix system: eat reasonable portions, get plenty of fruits and veggies, go easy on the sweets and fat, drink a lot of water, and get some exercise.

Pretty exciting stuff, huh? But it does work. It worked for me, anyway. Which means I am a success story! And I’m worth it! In fact, I’m going to stop typing and clap for myself right now! Yay! And then I’m going out to celebrate by crashing another Ship Against the Rocks. n