Shane Campbell reviews the Huber Winery/Bank Street Brewhouse dinner on November 13.

I arrived at Bank Street Brewhouse with barely five minutes to spare. The lighting seemed dim and it appeared the small dining area still was less than half full. No one greeted me at the door, so focusing straight ahead, I walked to the unoccupied bar and claimed a seat. Sarah, a mainstay at both NABC locations spotted me and came over.

“I hear you're dining with Roger and Diana tonight.”

I nodded, but before I could say anything, she already had whirled away.

I put my jacket on the chair and turned around to see who was there. Roger and Diana were talking to people they obviously were well acquainted with. I didn't know them. Then I spotted Dana and Ted Huber, owners and ambassadors of the featured winery, and ... no one else I knew. Okay, I'd probably just hang at the bar then. Angie came over and handed me a glass of white wine. I must have looked like I needed it.

“Which is this?” I asked, then immediately felt silly at the superfluous question in light of my lack of wine acumen. “It's the Pinot Gris,” she said. “You are here for the wine dinner, right?” Sure am. I turned back and noticed Chef Matt talking to someone I didn't know. I realized later it was his wife, Kristin. I didn't get to speak with her during the evening (my loss). More guests arrived and the tables started to fill up.

When Roger collected me from the bar to join his table, I felt the interloper. He and Diana had been talking to friends when I came in and I hated to intrude on that. He assured me it was fine. As I followed him to the table he casually asked, “You know the Schads?”

Umm what? As in famous goat cheese, Capriole Farms, known coast to coast, and a prominent attorney who owns the very large building I could see looming across the parking lot with SCHAD written on it? Oh sure, they were over to the house just the other day to deliver a recipe for curried goat and show me an old subpoena with an ink stain that looks like Jesus!

I drained my wine glass. No oddly, can't say that I do know them.

Oh hell … suddenly I would be thrust into interacting with personages of note, and me with credentials currently lacking a restaurant, famous farm, or even a law firm of my own. Well, I could always play the “I'm a veteran” card. People seem to trade on that coin frequently these days. Not likely; the closest I got to combat was a Molotov cocktail tossed into the night club I was in one night in Manama! Considering the music they were playing at the time, the extremists did us a favor. Hotel California sung with an Asian accent is its own kind of terrorism. That lonely seat at the bar suddenly looked reassuringly safe about now!

You can probably guess how this turned out. Larry and Judy Schad were fabulous dinner companions. I sat next to Judy, who entertained our end of the table all evening with her views on current events and life in general, expressed in the most delightfully vivid language. Several times I imagined how shocked some of the foodie community might be to hear her views. I won't be specific or even paraphrase “Dame Judy,” as I now think of her. If you've seen Judi Dench's role as “M” in the Bond pics, you're not far off the mark.

She's seen it all, packs a wry sense of humor, and has a formidable sweet tooth. I would not want to be on her wrong side. Too bad really, as she shared some surprising news with us, but I'm sure it will come out soon enough. Judy and Roger engaged in spirited banter all evening. They tried to include me when possible, but I was just happy to be there, really.

I was terrified that Judy would ask me something and I would stammer stupidly until she had to turn away in disgust. And then she did! Judy and Roger were discussing the localism phenomenon when suddenly Judy turned to me and asked, “When you think of goat cheese, what is the most obvious word that comes to mind?”

Shit! (No, that's not it). I desperately tried to think what she wanted from me. Just as she was about turn away, I said “Chevre?” She looked at me with exasperation. Damn, I never know how to pronounce French words.

“No, no,'” she said, “I mean, who do you think of when you think goat cheese? And I don't mean me.” Nothing came to mind, so I said nothing. “Humbolt Fog obviously!” she said, and proceeded to talk about moldy cheese like she was narrating the Science Channel. I'm sure people would pay to hear Judy talk about cheese or anything else, for that matter. But I wasn't paying to listen to Judy, and I was reminded of that when Dana Huber got up and welcomed us to the event.

Ok, how do I say this? I know dick about wine. I can tell red from white at a single glance, assuming it's already in the glass. However, I'm not unaware of what others think and say about the local wines. I've met a few people with their own wine cellars, and I recently chatted with a small wine shop owner about this subject. I've noticed that local wineries aren't regularly featured at dinners in Louisville's higher end establishments.

All right, I'll just stop beating around the bush and say that my impression coming into this event was that Huber's makes sweet wine for the masses and are good at it. My own friends love Huber's, which tends to reinforce that impression, as my friends generally have poor taste. Hello? They are MY friends!

I was sure I wouldn’t notice the wine at this event, and was prepared to be okay with that. But I was wrong. While I'm not about to attempt tasting notes (see my qualifications, above), I can say we had three whites, including the Pinot Gris, Traminette, and Seyval Blanc, and two reds: Cabernet Sauvignon and a blend called Heritage. Ted Huber and his assistant, Jason Heiligenberg, spoke about the grapes, soil, and history of the wines, and I found it quite interesting. I remember some of the more obvious things, although relaying them here with any confidence is impossible. I found all the wines went very well with the dishes, preferring the whites, of which the Seyval Blanc was my favorite. The next time I go to Huber's I will order it and make my friends feel sooo inadequate for drinking the Kool-Aid (effing snob that I am).

This leaves only the food – “deconstructed” – to address. At one point I asked Roger if anyone was taking pictures of the plates. I wish I had, because this account is all from my wine soaked memory.

The very first dish confirmed my anticipated fears. Green Bean Casserole? REALLY? Calm down, it's deconstructed remember! (I'm saying this in my head, and smiling like “this is so what I hoped for”). It looked like that crispy stuff pooled at the bottom of the oven when the “green bean casserole” gets too hot and runs over. Peel a palm-size portion up and mash some waffle marks into it. That was the base of the dish. A small medallion of (cheese?) spread sat in the center of the waffle and two small green beans leaned together like two tiny sticks of firewood. I looked at this spread dubiously, as I didn't seem to have a utensil (knife, fork, spoon -- check) adequate for such a food item. I turned to see what Judy was doing, but hers was already down the hatch and she was watching me!

So, I slipped the edge of the waffle between two tines of my fork and use my knife to hold the rest down while I broke off a piece. That worked. When I tried to convey the piece to my mouth it promptly fell out back onto the plate. I looked over at Judy. She raised her brows and said, “Just looked like finger food to me.” I knifed and forked every bit of it. It took a while, but damn it, veterans must exhibit fortitude under extreme circumstances! It really did taste like the concentrated flavors of a green been casserole. I hoped all the portions weren't going to be so small, though, or I'd be stopping at DQ for chicken strips and gravy on the way home.

Next came the eggs bedeviled. There is a picture of this on the BSB Facebook page, so I'll not go into too much detail. The egg filling portion sat on top of two short thick slices of the best bacon I've ever eaten. With the mouth delighted and the way properly prepared by the hors d'oeuvres, it was on to more substantial fare.

Rounds two and three were Sweet Potato and Carrot with Peas, respectively. The sweet potato was a double spoonful mashed (like a casserole) and topped with a couple of sprigs of fennel with pistachio praline on the side. Judy gushed over the praline, and I gave her mine when it appeared again on a later plate.

The most substantial bit of the Carrot with Peas dish was a delicious granola substance. There were only a few pieces of carrot and a handful of peas. Perhaps “deconstructed” really means what is leftover after someone who was really hungry already demolished the dish. At this point, I was pretty sure there would be a drive-through window in my near future.

I was wrong (again). The Venison Loin with potato was substantial and amazing. I was raised in the country with a bunch of uncles who liked nothing better than to show up at Mamaw’s on Thanksgiving with a freshly gutted dear carcass in the back of their pick-up. A short time later, I would be forced to visit said uncle to partake of the mighty hunter's bounty. My recollection is that venison sucked serious ass! Of course, even then I would smile like, “This is so what I hoped for.” At the wine dinner, this actually was SO WHAT I HOPED FOR! The venison was medium-rare, succulent, and tender. A generous pool of mashed potatoes rounded out my favorite dish of the evening.

I recall that I liked the Turkey & Stuffing, but not really the particulars. It came with a translucent roe-like substance scattered on top (cranberries – deconstructed?). Anyway, whether owing to the fog of wine, war, or possibly distraction caused by something shiny, most details of this course elude me.

The Apple Pie was really, really tasty! Of course it was deconstructed, so it wasn't pie at all. The apple portion was ample (no DQ!) and had the spongy consistency of canned pears. I don't really remember how the caramel powder was implemented; maybe I was experiencing sensory overload. I do remember that Dana Huber came over and sat in the empty chair next to me at this point, so perhaps my distraction was justified. This course was served with the applejack brandy cocktail, which I thought was quite nice.

When the last dish was deconstructed and the plates cleared, chef came out and said a few words. Bravo chef! Aside from being a supremely talented chef, Matt Weirich is one of the nicest people I've ever met and I was happy for him. Yes, the dishes he sent out were artsy to my eye, yet they combined to make up one of the most interesting and satisfying culinary experiences ever for me.

Chef ended up at our table as did a substantial bowl of the pistachio pralines. Roger capped off his evening with a glass of Huber's Knobstone Reserve Port, and Angie brought me my favorite Willet's Vintage bourbon straight up. Judy and I shared the Vintage and the pralines as we peppered Matt with questions about the dishes. This all was so much more than I'd hoped for, and now I know that the Huber winery crafts wines far better than I can truly appreciate. I also know that no matter what you call it, dinner provided by a chef of Matt's quality is a wondrous thing.

Thank you, Roger and Diana, for taking pity on me and sharing your table and friends. Cheers!

Kind words about Bank Street Brewhouse's Sunday brunch.

I'm the Publican, and I support this message. It was written by Shane Campbell, and appeared at the Louisville Restaurants Forum. Kudos to the staff, cast and crew at BSB.

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We had out of town friends of friends in for the weekend to celebrate a 40th birthday. As we were wrapping up the party last night we wondered where to go for brunch. That's easy! Bank Street Brewhouse. Brunch at BSB is great in so many ways.

First every great brunch must have a great Bloody Mary and the lovely Sarah expertly helms ten odd feet of Bloody Mary bar. Bloody Marys at the BSB are made with interesting small batch vodkas and it's a pleasure to interact with Sarah while she creates your drink. As a regular I can tell you that Sarah's expertise at making your drink is only exceeded by her talent at story telling. If you hang around the bar till the crowd clears out you just might get to hear one.

Of course there is fantastic beer! The BSB is my favorite place to drink beer. This is not because they have the largest selection of beer in town. That would be found a few miles away at the NABC Pizzeria. No, it's because the beer here is always interesting, super fresh, and I can count on their being a core of favorites with exciting new beers nearly every week. This morning I had a couple of pints of Weefoot. Weefoot is described as a dry session stout. The board says it was 48IBUs which I believe is fairly bitter for a stout but it was nicely balanced by a malty base and a measure of sour thrown in at the end. Complex but not at all heavy, this beer was perfect with my breakfast. Which brings me to the food.

Brunch at BSB on the first Sunday of the month means Chef Matt Weirich's prime rib and omelet station. This is a closeup experience and on first sight elicits oohs and aahs.

Chef sets up right in the dinning room and with a couple of gas burners puts together omelet art with beautifully fresh ingredients. He pairs this with generous slices of prime rib that has the best flavor I've ever had. I asked Chef what the flavors in the meat were due to. He smiled and gave me a run down that I'm sure any chef or even experienced cook would have appreciated but it was way over my head. I heard salt, pepper, and lots of Dijon mustard and olive oil. It was delicious!

I was the only one who selected this option today and believe me I was soaking up a lot of food envy at my end of the table of ten. I shared the prime rib and each person said that they would be getting this next time. Ha! They'll have a month to wait! I told Chef that I thought he should put the prime rib on the regular menu.

As we were waiting for our checks several people asked me the price for omelet and prime rib. I hadn't even asked and we all started guessing what it would be. No one guessed $15. Cheers!

Review: The German Cafe (Paoli, Indiana).

In the following review, Shane Campbell recounts his wonderful experience at The German Cafe in Paoli, Indiana. Mr. and Mrs. Curmudgeon visited a week later, and fully endorse Shane's fine review. Previously, Shane reviewed the Louis Le Français/Starlight Dist/NABC beer dinner on March 1 and the Eight Beer Fantasy at Majid's.

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One Sunday afternoon recently, sitting at the bar in Bank Street Brewhouse, I overheard a couple of regulars talking about setting up a meet at a German restaurant in Paoli.

Say what? I must have misunderstood.

I've been in Paoli many, many times, and while I know a few places that one can find decent food there – okay, one really: the golf club -- I recalled no German restaurants in this tiny burg. I was told it was called The German Cafe, and it was getting big love from another regular (not present that Sunday), whose opinion about German food was respected. A trip to the German Cafe was in the offing. I wanted in.

As you know, coordinating a time when everyone is available is about as easy as training beagle puppies to herd grasshoppers. After exchanging several e-mails and waiting two more Sundays, it seemed likely that this rendezvous would not happen soon. At first, it was Thunder, then Derby. Next it would be Mother's Day. So to assuage my kraut craving, I coordinated my own trip with my best girl Friday (Donna) and on Saturday we drove an easy thirty miles northwest to Paoli.

The German Cafe is a small cottage painted light blue and white with a tidy deck out front. It sits up on the hillside just east of town on State Rd 37 across from the Wal-Mart. I mention this because if you ask for directions in this bucolic county, the Wal-Mart is the landmark of choice.

It was late morning as we stepped out from under a sun-drenched Saturday sky and into the cafe to the jaunty sound of jingling bells tied to the door. As we removed our sunglasses we were met by a bit of old world charm. The restaurant is a collection of small rooms decorated in lace and white table linens. We found out later it can seat forty-four inside. The front room is the largest and can seat as many as twenty. The first thing that caught my eye was a shelf with beer just opposite the door. We stood conspicuously at the entry for a moment wondering whether this was a “seat yourselves” situation or “wait to be seated” scenario. There was a young couple already seated to our left in the main room and the sound of quiet conversation told us that there were other diners in the room, farther back to the left of the beer shelf.

For me, the beer is always the landmark of choice.

A woman with sandy blonde hair wearing an apron bustled into the room from the kitchen. She was headed towards the back room with the quiet conversation but paused and threw us a friendly smile. I stepped away from the shelf, where I had been looking at the bottles of German beer. She said hello. I heard no accent and was mildly disappointed. The story was that the German Cafe was owned by a German couple. Maybe later we would meet an owner.

We both said hi, and Donna said we were the only two. The woman glanced around at the nearly empty room and asked us to please sit anywhere we liked. I could see into at least two other smaller rooms. The brightly lit front room where we stood appeared comfortable and at first glance seemed to have many things to look at, including the beer shelf. We chose to sit in the corner of the main room across from the other couple.

We had no sooner taken our seats than the woman hurried back in. She invited us to look at the laminated lunch menus laid out at each place setting and asked if we would like to hear the specials. I told her we were not local but were very excited to try the restaurant, of which we had only recently heard. She smiled as if slightly embarrassed and said, yes a German restaurant in Paoli was unexpected, and yet she had not chosen this spot at random. She said this while making a gesture akin to throwing a dart at a board. I was too surprised by her admission that she was the owner to follow up on this right away.

As she described the specials, speaking the German words, it became obvious that she is German. Her English is so good, and with nearly perfect American phrasing, that I thought she must have lived in this country for decades. Her name is Ramona Muenzer, and on the day of our visit, her waitress had not shown up for work. Frau Muenzer wore a happy face, but we could tell she was not best pleased.

The specials were a Schnitzel Normandy (covered with mixed vegetables) with a salad, and a wurst plate with three different sausages and a choice of two sides. There was a third special, available only on selected weekends: Nuernberger sausages, served with two sides. These she described as six finger-length links, sweet and slightly spicy like small bratwursts. Her enthusiasm for this infrequent special won me over immediately, and I let her suggest my sides of kraut and potato salad.

Then she asked if I was interested in the beer options. I was. I had already looked over the shelf containing eight different bottled beers. Five were Weihenstephaner (Hefe & Kristal Weissbier, Doppel Bock, Pilsner and Original Premium). The others were Erdinger Dark Wheat, Hofbrau Dunkel, and Jever Pilsner. As she brought a copy of the beer menu, the young man at the table next to us said that the Doppel Bock was excellent -- if I liked a dark beer.

I had already dismissed the Doppel Bock, as I knew it would be stronger than I wanted. I intended to drink two or three bottles and selecting the Doppel would cut that down to two for sure. However, before I could say this aloud Ramona praised the selection and placed the menu in front of me. I glanced at it and saw the Doppel was the strongest of the beers at 7.5%.

The young man offered that the beer, while dark, was not heavy at all, a sentiment Ramona echoed. I was pleased that the young man was recommending a beer to me, but still I hesitated. Just as I started to explain that it was the alcohol content that I objected to, not the taste or heaviness, the young man said I could have a taste of his if I wasn't sure.

Oh, hell; I laughed and said to Ramona that I would have a whole bottle to taste. Donna volunteered to drive if necessary, and we were all in happy accord that I would be drinking the Doppel Bock. Chad and Katey told us that they also were not local. They had just noticed the restaurant as they were driving by.

In fact, they are from Illinois and had spent the previous night in Indianapolis. I asked where they were heading and they smiled at each other and admitted that they didn't know, having just started a seven day driving trip in an open-top Jeep with their only agenda being to find wineries and interesting historical sites along their journey. They both had notebooks open next to them, and said they were writing a travel blog (ourgrapeadventures.blogspot.com) detailing the trip. Damn they were cute! Chad is a coal miner from the Illinois sticks and Katey is from the Chicago suburbs, just finishing a degree in music therapy. They were both twenty-fourish. Oh, to be young again!

We were discussing possible options when their food arrived. Katey had already received her salad, and it looked like she had chosen the sausage plate entree. Chad had the schnitzel with vegetables and a large bowl of flat noodles with mushroom gravy. Ramona arrived with my beer and a glass, and I asked if she could sit with us when she had time as both couples wanted to hear her story. She again mentioned that her waitress had not shown up, but with only a few other diners to assist, she would be happy to come and sit when she could.

Our food soon came. Donna had ordered the schnitzel “Wiener Art” sandwich without sides, and its monstrous size made her glad she had not ordered sides. To be truthful, there were very few German sides she would eat anyway. My sausages had a delicate flavor that became truly fantastic when covered with the spicy brown mustard. The kraut and the potato salad both were the best I've ever had.

I've eaten at Erika's and the Gasthaus in Louisville. I've sought out German restaurants in areas with large German communities in Wisconsin, Texas, and even Jasper, Indiana. I've even had a few meals in Germany. While I can't ever remember having any bad meals at a German restaurant, I certainly know that I've never had a better one than I had in the German Cafe in Paoli that Saturday.

While we were eating, Ramona came back, sat down and began to tell us her story. This is what she said.

Ramona, her husband Bernd and their two children lived near Wurzburg, Germany, until about three years ago. She worked for the US Department of Defense for a long time, explaining her exceptional English. She mentioned working in the hotel trade, which I took to mean that she was employed by the billeting facilities at a large Army base located near there. Bernd worked in assisted care for the elderly, and also had owned a couple of small pubs in the past. As the era of US Army bases in Germany drew down, Ramona was faced with losing her DOD job unless she moved to another base in the far south of the country.

Ramona said she and Bernd had become acquainted with a woman who visited Germany often, and who also happened to live in the West Baden/French Lick area. This woman, a small business owner, often complained of the lack of German restaurants in the area. Ramona and her husband were convinced to come over for a visit; she joked that their American acquaintance only drove them as far as Paoli, Bedford, and West Baden, and they never really knew how close they were to larger centers of population. I got the impression that in retrospect, she might have considered locating closer to Louisville, Bloomington, Jasper, or even Indianapolis had she been more familiar with the area.

She said their restaurant had been open for about two years now and that they had been making slow but steady improvements all along. She talked about Indiana laws prohibiting a beer garden, although the new deck area served well. We discussed her beer selection and she said they chose the beer because it was what she and Bernd liked to drink in Germany. They were thinking of expanding the beer selection, but were unsure the locals would drink other styles.

I mentioned that her approval rating was an impressive 95% on Urbanspoon and she assured me that it was in fact 97%, as one of her regular customers had just told her. I mentioned that the Mayor of Jasper had been seen eating here, and she replied that even more impressively, the German Club of Jasper had recently dined with her, and the owners of the famous Schitzelbank restaurant in Jasper had been coming to The German Cafe in Paoli to eat regularly.

As we were talking, the tardy waitress came in. Ramona congratulated her for finally showing up, and the young woman tried to put a glad face on it by saying better late than never. Ramona's smile in return appeared to take quite a lot of effort, and she told the girl there was a lot of work to do. This interplay was close up and quite amusing. I had to turn away to keep from laughing. I imagined the waitress would be receiving the sharp end of Ramona's tongue soon after we departed. I suspect there are many things Ramona has had to become accustomed to since moving to Paoli.

We’re thrilled that she did, and we’ll be returning soon to try out the dinner menu. Ramona says that the goulash and the red cabbage are widely acknowledged as the most authentic to be had locally by her German customers. I don't intend to take her word for it.

Our lunch came to $25. I was too full to try any dessert and Donna took half her schnitzel sandwich home with her. The true measure of how much I enjoyed my meal was the fact that I realized I had not even considered ordering another beer. The Doppel Bock I had was quite tasty, but the food was so good that I didn’t need another. I plan to have the hoppy Pils next time. Besides, I need to practice my German: Ein Bier, Bitte!

The charming Chad and Katey were great company. I'm sure they had a great adventure. I intend to follow their journey on their blog spot.

http://www.thegermancafepaoli.com/

http://ourgrapeadventures.blogspot.com/

Shane reviews the Louis Le Français/Starlight Dist./NABC beer dinner on March 1.

Last week I bumped into Shane Campbell, a regular participant in the Louisville Restaurants Forum, at Bank Street Brewhouse over tasty pints of cask-conditioned Community Dark.

During the course of a long conversation, he mentioned that he'd penned a lengthy recap of the Louis Le Français/Starlight Dist./NABC beer dinner back on March 1, but thought it too long for posting at the forum. I offered to publish it at my NAC blog, and did so this weekend.

The story is in two parts, and you'll want to pay close attention to the pivotal role of pork belly in the narrative.

A Grand Pairing, Part One.

A Grand Pairing, Part Two.

Eight Beer Fantasy recap by Shane Campbell.

Following is Shane Campbell's review of the Eight Beer Fantasy yesterday at Majid's. 


The Eight Beer Fantasy at Majid's on Sunday, January 29.


I can't say enough good things about this experience. It wasn't just an ideal venue and flawless presentation, but the careful thought placed into the pairings by mastermind Stephen Dennison. While some of the edibles were special for the occasion, they were extensions of what the kitchen usually prepares, and the beers are those on the everyday list at Majid's. Consequently, what was gleaned was very useful, as well as being delicious to learn.

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I just returned from the Eight Beer Fantasy pairing at Majid's. For those of you who were at the Whiskey Roulette I would say that for me this actually topped that experience in terms of food/beverage/presentation. It was not as much fun though because you guys weren't there!

There was a full house for this one; I believe 22 - 24 people. Everyone was very social and there was a lot more cross discussion this time. Roger Baylor did a masterful job of describing the beer making process and how it applied to the different beers we were sampling. His colorful descriptions included personal anecdotes from his travels in Europe and elicited many comments from the attendees. Roger is a consummate communicator and a natural teacher.

Stephen, was again the polished entertainer and he went well beyond the Roulette experience this time with an impressive array of small plates. What a meal! We had deviled eggs with ham and salmon, giant shrimp cocktail, filet mignon with mushrooms, Persian chicken with goat cheese fritters. My favorite was the dessert dish; fresh strawberries with Frangelico crème. That paired with the Chokolat Stout was sublime.

Of course he created a couple of beer based cocktails that were icing on the cake. In fact, the final, a digestif, was quite amazing. It was so concentrated and complex that it was like tasting port wine for the first time. Stephen described so many steps in the process for making this wonderful drink that my eyes glazed over and Roger commented that types like Stephen these days are as much akin to molecular chemists as bar tenders. Throughout, Joey and Majid were a whirlwind of activity, keeping us supplied with each course. At the end, Stephen introduced Chef Brandon Lewis to a huge round of applause.

My thanks to Joey, Majid, Chef Brandon, RogerB, and StephenD for a most excellent beer pairing on a wonderful Sunday afternoon!

P.S. Roger is planning a special beer pairing with the Frenchman for March. He is very excited about this and as he talked about the French cuisine and how it would be paired with the biere de garde I couldn't help but get excited too. I hope some of you decide to cross over and indulge in this decadent feast.

P.P.S Stephen, the BBC Bourbon Barrel Stout, Fernet Branca, Espresso-Walnut Gomme is a signature drink! I really want another. Are you sure everything in that is legal?