Rocco's Old School Italian

For years, there was a Glory Days Grill in our neck of the woods. It was a decent enough place to grab a quick dinner before our weekly Tuesday trip to the grocery store, but it always seemed practically empty. Eventually, Glory Days closed, and the space was taken over by Rocco's, billed as an old school Italian restaurant and wine bar. The new owners clearly spent a substantial amount of money renovating the place, because you'd never know it had once been a sports bar. The new place feels upscale without being stuffy, and the dark colors and vintage style advertising posters for Italian booze make the interior surprisingly cozy for such a large space.

When we stopped in for our first visit, we were told that without a reservation, we'd have to sit at the bar. Though there seemed to be plenty of open booths, we took ourselves over to the large oval bar and grabbed two seats on the shorter end. 

shrimp, flatbread, octopus

Mr Minx is usually inclined to order pasta whenever we visit an Italian restaurant, but I wanted to try some smaller dishes first, to get a feel of the place. So we started with the Mediterranean Grilled Octopus ($20), which came with a warm potato and vegetable hash and a Bobby Flay-esque drizzle of basil and Calabrian chili olive oils. The octopus was beautifully tender and flavorful, with a nice char, and the portion was generous. Really enjoyed the hash, too. Next came the Shrimp Scampi Toast ($17), four jumbo shrimp perched atop slices of toasted ciabatta like they were pool floaties, surrounded by a lovely lake of lemony garlic butter. Picking up a toast and taking a bite wasn't really an option, as the shrimp still had their tails on and were somewhat precariously perched on their little bread seats--which were damp with garlic butter. I felt this was one of those ideas that seemed cute but could have been presented better. Perhaps as larger slices of garlic bread with several smaller shrimp--sans tails--arranged on top. And without the moat of sauce. Don't get me wrong; it was delicious, but there was far more sauce than bread. Those who know me know I hate food waste.

Thankfully, our third appetizer was the Truffle Mushroom Flatbread ($17), a long oval of crisp crust topped with mozzarella, ricotta, Parmesan, Gorgonzola, mushrooms, black truffle spread, and truffle-infused olive oil. It was a lot of cheese and a lot of truffle, but I loved it. And I employed the crusts to sop up some of that excess lemony garlic butter from the shrimp dish.

A month or so later we returned to celebrate the publication of hubby's first novel. This time, we had a reservation and were seated at a table, where we received excellent service from a waitress who was attentive without hovering. She checked on us regularly, made sure everything arrived as expected, and, perhaps most importantly, didn't leave us for dead when we were ready to pay the check. (Not sure why that seems to be a thing these days, but I don't appreciate having to wait longer for the check than it did for me to eat my food.) 

This time, we started with cocktails. Mr Minx ordered the La Contessa, a floral concoction featuring Hendrick's Flora Adora gin, fresh lemon juice, St-Germain elderflower liqueur, lavender-honey syrup, and a botanical sugar rim. He was surprised by how much he enjoyed the lavender component, which can go soapy if not used judiciously. I chose the Stork Club Spritz, a refreshing combination of Giffard white peach liqueur, Amaro Montenegro, Prosecco, white peach purée, and club soda. It was fizzy and delicious, and both drinks were excellent choices for a summer evening.

calamari 'n friends

For our appetizer, we chose Calamari 'n Friends, a cheerful name for a plate of fried calamari, zucchini, and hot cherry peppers. It came with two dipping sauces, a spicy red sauce and a lemony mayo-based one. Personally, I would have liked more zucchini than the few tiny strips, but felt everything was nicely cooked and flavorful.

Time for pasta. At least for Mr Minx. He ordered the Fettuccine Genovese ($24), featuring braised beef and caramelized onion ragù, finished with a Gorgonzola cream drizzle and Parmesan cheese. It was a rich, creamy, beefy dish, with plenty of flavor and a generous portion of pasta. Neal, who has never met a plate of pasta he didn't want to finish, polished off the entire thing. I tasted it, of course, and understood why. 

Fettuccine Genovese 

I ordered the Chicken Parmesan ($22). Now, I've eaten a lot of chicken Parmesan over the years, and I've encountered versions that were variations on the popular themes of overcooked, over-breaded, or over-buried with cheese, or some hellish combination of all three. Happily, Rocco's has someone in the kitchen who actually knows how to cook a damn chicken breast, a qualification that is surprisingly uncommon in professional restaurants. My plate arrived looking like the late, great, Queen Dolly Parton herself: two enormous, whole, boneless chicken breasts, lightly breaded and pan-fried, topped with San Marzano tomato sauce, mozzarella, and Parmesan. Not the usual thick comforter of rubbery mozz, either, but a lightweight summer blanket that was just the right amount. As someone who is lactose intolerant, I appreciate a restaurant that understands how to use cheese with some subtlety. (Marta, take note.) There was a modest amount of spaghetti, maybe a cup and a half, with my mountain of chicken. I managed to eat perhaps a third of my meal before admitting defeat. 

chicken parm

Never fear--nothing went to waste! The leftovers provided two additional meals, one for Neal and another for me. Three meals from a $22 entrée is an extraordinary value these days, especially when the food is this good.

In fact, the pricing at Rocco's is a little curious. The appetizers aren't exactly cheap. Seventeen dollars for four shrimp on toast seems a bit steep, even if they're jumbo shrimp swimming in delicious garlic butter. But $22 for that mountain of chicken Parmesan? That's almost absurdly reasonable. The eggplant Parmesan is also $22, which makes me wonder about the economics of chicken versus eggplant. I'm not complaining, mind you. If Rocco's wants to keep serving enough chicken to feed a small family for twenty-two bucks, I'm certainly not going to discourage them.

We didn't order dessert on either visit, mostly because we'd already eaten quite enough. Maybe someday.

When I originally saw that Glory Days was becoming an Italian restaurant, my first thought was, "Oh great. Yet another Italian restaurant." Don't get me wrong--I love well-prepared Italian food, and we go to Il Basilico in Timonium fairly regularly. But I'd rather have another great Asian restaurant close to home. Or maybe a Georgian restaurant, like Tbiliso, which was so freaking good but couldn't last in its nearly-hidden location in a random shopping center in Cockeysville. But I was happy to give Rocco's a try, mostly because Mr Minx is also Mr Pasta. And wouldn't you know it--I love Rocco's, and can't wait to go back to eat there again.

Rocco's Old School Italian
1220 E Joppa Rd,
Towson, MD 21286
(410) 337-6748

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Store-bought, Cheffed-up: Green Chicken Chili

green chili

Sometimes the best dinners come from a jar…and a rotisserie chicken. Meet my quick green chicken chili, which takes three ingredients and about fifteen minutes. No lie. 

I've mentioned this trick here on Minxeats before, but there are new readers, so I'm saying it again: Find Desert Pepper Salsa del Rio and buy a couple three jars. I find it a bit too watery to use as actual chip-n-dip salsa, but it's fabulous for cooking. You can use other green salsas, of course, but I have found that this particular one requires no additional seasoning; it's perfect as it is.

Here’s what I do for my super fast weeknight green chicken chili:

• Open the jar of Desert Pepper Salsa del Rio.  

• Drain and rinse a can of white beans. I like cannellini, but great northern work perfectly

Throw both together into a medium pot, bring it to a boil, then turn the heat down and simmer for ten minutes so the flavors can mingle. 

• Shred about two cups of supermarket rotisserie chicken Add the chicken to the pot and heat until warmed through. 

• Eat! 

Of course you should taste it and adjust the seasonings to your liking (honestly, it will be just right), and then top with whatever garnishes make you happy: cilantro, a squeeze of lime, avocado, cheese, sour cream, or all of the above. Serve with your favorite brand of tortilla chips. (I like Xochitl, which are thin and crispy and taste like actual corn.)

The Salsa del Rio gives this chili a personality you don’t usually get from jarred sauces. The rotisserie chicken adds protein without much extra effort. And honestly? It tastes like you spent way more time in the kitchen than you actually did. It's perfect for those nights when you have neither the time nor the energy for cooking, but don't want to eat a peanut butter sandwich over the sink.  

* Any products in this post that are mentioned by name may have been provided to Minxeats by the manufacturer. However, all opinions belong to Minxeats. Amazon links earn me $! Please buy!

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Wye Oak Tavern: Waffles, Wine, and 26 Years of Wedded Bliss

For our 26th wedding anniversary, Mr. Minx and I spent a night in Frederick, Maryland. We made dinner reservations at Wye Oak Tavern, the restaurant located in the Visitation Hotel, a converted convent and school, in what used to be its chapel.  

The restaurant itself is quite striking, though I'm not sure tavern is the word I'd use to describe it. The space still looks very much like a chapel, with soaring ceilings and lots of white paint, stained glass windows and an altar. It's an impressive setting, but all those hard surfaces make for a noisy dining room. I'm also not entirely sure what the restaurant has to do with the famous Wye Oak, Maryland's former state tree, which met its demise in 2002. Perhaps there's a connection beyond the name.

Blurry because it was dark: taiyaki with smoked trout brandade.

We started with two appetizers, both of which sounded intriguing. The smoked trout brandade came with potato taiyaki waffles and smoked trout roe. If you're unfamiliar with taiyaki, they're little fish-shaped cakes, traditionally filled with sweet bean paste. Here, they were made with potato, which seemed an odd choice given that brandade already contains potato. Hot potato on potato action isn't necessarily a bad thing, particularly for carbophiles like us, but in this case, the little fish seemed a bit squishy to use as a base for a spread. The brandade itself was lovely, as was the smoked trout roe perched on top. I just wish the kitchen had resisted the urge to complicate an otherwise lovely dish with squishy little potato fish.

Only after looking at my photographs the next day did I notice that there had been a tiny spoon on the plate, presumably for scooping up the brandade. The restaurant was dark enough that neither of us noticed it during dinner. We managed with our forks and knives, like barbarians. And I am now realizing, as I write this, that the menu states there was an egg salad togarashi component to the dish, but I couldn't tell you where it was.

cold fried chicken liver pate with Twin Bears sourdough "waffle"

Our other appetizer was cold fried chicken liver pâté with "waffles" (quotes theirs). The pâté was molded into the shape of a fried chicken drumstick, breaded, and served with rectangles of waffle-like sourdough. (I am unsure whether they were mini waffles made with a sourdough batter, or slices of sourdough bread that had been compressed in a waffle iron.) It was an amusing presentation, and the pâté itself was quite good. Unfortunately, the waffles were quite tough. I suppose we could have left them whole, smeared each with half of the pâté, and eaten them with our hands, again like barbarians. Instead, we attempted to cut the waffles into smaller pieces—no easy task with the knives with which we had been supplied. Personally, I think a crisp piece of unadulterated toast would have worked better. And if they insisted on making the chicken and waffles connection, perhaps they could use a little brand shaped like a grid of squares to mark the bread. 

For our main course, we ordered the 14oz New York strip steak, cooked medium-rare, with brown butter béarnaise sauce. The steak arrived properly cooked, with a nicely seasoned crust. It was a good piece of beef, although, as sometimes happens with strip steaks, there were fatty and gristly sections that Mr. Minx found disappointing. The béarnaise was interesting, but I found it a bit too tangy. Most disappointing was the cheddar popover that comes with their steaks—a dry dark-brown shell, lacking in any cheddar flavor or the characteristic eggy airiness of the species.

We also ordered two sides: broccoli rabe and rigatoni arrabbiata. The broccoli rabe was aggressively garlicky. I like garlic, but this was enough to ward off vampires in neighboring counties. The rigatoni was perfectly serviceable, but the sauce was an arrabbiata in name only. Arrabbiata is supposed to be spicy—its name means angry, after all. This sauce was creamy, texturally closer to a vodka sauce, with none of the heat I was expecting. The pasta is made in-house, and the dish was tasty, but unexpected in a meh sort of way.

By this point, we were full, and there was plenty of food remaining. We packed up the steak, pasta, broccoli rabe, and béarnaise to take back to the hotel. Dessert was out of the question.

Service was pleasant and attentive throughout the evening. I'd mentioned our anniversary when making the reservation through OpenTable, and just about everyone wished us a happy one: the head hostess, the person who escorted us to our table, and our waitress. Even the couple sitting next to us joined in. They were celebrating their first anniversary. When they learned we were celebrating our twenty-sixth, the young couple asked whether marriage had been fun.

I looked at Mr. Minx. "Fun?"

The couple looked stricken. I hastened to explain that marriage isn't necessarily fun, because you don't spend your lives together floating around in a bubble of love. There are aging parents to worry about and eventually lose, beloved pets who get sick and eventually die, and all the assorted indignities and expenses of homeownership. A quarter-century of marriage involves a great deal of ordinary life, and ordinary life isn't always entertaining. I hope I didn't frighten them too badly.

The next morning, we discovered that our leftovers were perhaps the best part of the Wye Oak experience. The hotel offered breakfast, so we went downstairs for coffee and carbohydrates. I snagged an English muffin, and Mr. Minx took a bagel. Back in our room, we made sandwiches with the leftover steak and brown butter béarnaise. Cold from the refrigerator, the sauce had firmed up into something resembling a flavored butter, and its tartness was much less pronounced. It was excellent on the steak sandwiches. I also combined the leftover broccoli rabe and rigatoni, which we ate alongside our sandwiches. The combination improved both dishes, although the garlic remained enthusiastic. At least we were both equally offensive.

So what did I think of Wye Oak Tavern?

I have mixed feelings. The restaurant is certainly ambitious—it is run by the Voltaggio brothers, so that is to be expected—and there were some very good flavors on our plates. The brandade and smoked trout roe were delicious. The chicken liver pâté was tasty and cleverly presented. The steak was properly cooked, and the service was friendly. But I kept wishing the kitchen would stop trying quite so hard. Both appetizers suffered from their waffle-y accompaniments, the arrabbiata lacked its defining characteristic, and the broccoli rate was excessively garlicky. The chapel is an impressive space, but it's also loud, and the atmosphere doesn't quite match the restaurant's name. 

I miss Volt. Very much. 

The best part about our dinner was getting two hearty meals out of it—I'm all about repurposing leftovers. Oh, and Mr Minx's dirty martini, intriguingly flavored with a "pizza tincture" that we simply must reverse engineer. 

* Any products in this post that are mentioned by name may have been provided to Minxeats by the manufacturer. However, all opinions belong to Minxeats. Amazon links earn me $! Please buy!

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Bite Me Baltimore: Ekiben

Hi there, Baltimore—and beyond! I’m Ivy Buchowski, and yes, I’ve officially taken over Minxeats for a little while. Kathy Patterson, aka Kat LaGue,, the brilliant mind behind the Good Scents cozy mysteries, was kind enough to let me hijack her blog so I can talk about one of my favorite things in the world: food. You might know me from the pages of her book Killer Sillage, poking around her fictional perfume shop, solving mysteries, and occasionally stirring up trouble. Here, though, it’s all about snacks, crumbs, and honest opinions (the sassier, the better). Whether it’s a pastry, a seafood delight, or a fried chicken that makes you weep with joy, I’ll be tasting, testing, and sometimes trash-talking with full disclosure. Welcome to my takeover. Grab a fork, sit tight, and let’s see what Baltimore has to offer.

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Hand me my megaphone, because I have something to say. One word: Ekiben. If you’ve been sleeping on this little slice of Fells Point/Hampden/South Baltimore foodie heaven, consider this your official wake-up call.

First off, the buns. Steamed to perfection, soft but not floppy, holding all the flavor without collapsing into a sad, soggy mess. And the fillings? Don’t even get me started. Spicy ancho chile pork that melts against your taste buds, fried chicken that’s crisped to golden glory, tofu for the herbivores among us…basically, they make everyone happy. Don't want a bun? Get it in a bowl with rice, instead. Less messy, just as delicious.

What I love most? The balance. Crunch, tenderness, spice, tang. Every bite has a story, and my mouth is the eager audience. Pro tip: get the tempura broccoli, with Chinese sausage. You won't regret it.

Pro tip: come hungry, bring a friend (or don’t, more for you), and pace yourself. One bun is good. Two? Ambitious. Three? Call me, and I'll help you eat.

So yeah. Ekiben. Go. Now. And don’t blame me when you can’t stop thinking about that tofu brah bun three hours later.

* Any products in this post that are mentioned by name may have been provided to Minxeats by the manufacturer. However, all opinions belong to Minxeats. Amazon links earn me $! Please buy!

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