A Guinness by the fireplace

Corned beef & cabbage usually isn't pretty, but Paula Deen and
the Food Network stylists make it so.

P.J. McIntyre's Irish Pub
17119 Lorain Road
Cleveland, Ohio

We'd missed lunch and it was almost dinner time, so we were looking for a rib-sticking meal on a damp, grey Sunday afternoon. We found it at P.J. McIntyre's, a warm, welcoming Irish pub. Our party of four sat by the glowing fire, in a cozy corner booth, and admired the stacked-stone fireplace and the ceiling that looked like pressed tin, the color of a shiny penny.

We all tried the corned beef, on a Reuben sandwich and on a plate with cabbage and garlic-mashed potatoes. It was the best corned beef any of us could remember having: very lean yet juicy, and just salty enough. And I'm usually not that crazy about cabbage, but this version had some texture, and a nice roasted flavor.

The lobster bisque was wonderful, rich and creamy with a surprising amount of lobster meat. We also enjoyed the Guinness beef stew, which was full of lean meat.

If you haven't tried it, draft Guinness beer is quite different from the stuff in cans; it's creamy, and not so smoky. I also enjoyed a draft Smithwick's red Irish ale.

It's hard to believe that this place used to be an appliance store. There are pretty stained-glass panels around the fireplace, and comfortable wood booths, with padded stools pulled up to the tables. It was quiet that afternoon, but I can easily imagine the place filled with sports fans watching the big screen, or live music on the weekend.

Hearty welcome on a cold night

Brasserie Beck
1101 K Street NW
Washington, DC

It was a bitterly cold night, just the right time to visit Brasserie Beck. The menu is full of hearty Belgian and French specialties -- cassoulet, choucroute, beef carbonnade, duck confit -- things I can't even imagine eating during warm weather.

Perusing the beer menu

We started out by sharing an order of mussels cooked in garlic and white wine. You can also have mussels cooked with curry and apples or with fennel and chorizo sausage. The side order of crisp, well-seasoned frites came with three mayonnaise-based dipping sauces: plain, something tomatoey, and a mild curry dip. (I had no idea that Belgians were so interested in curry.)

Paging through the inch-thick beer menu is both a literary and a sensory experience. Even if you're unfamiliar with Belgian beers, the names are delightful: Delirium Tremens, Gouden Carolus Ambrio, Floris Witt, Cantillon de Gambrinus. Detailed tasting notes make it hard to choose just one.

Hoegaarden wheat beer was spicy and dry, and it went well with the mussels. But the most intriguing beer of the night was the Duchesse de Bourgogne, a traditional Flemish red ale. The flavor was almost like wine, very intense, rich and fruity.

Our entree was cassoulet for two. The dish came to the table in a heavy porcelain-covered pot and was served into smaller matching serving ware, which probably helped keep it warm. The white beans were meltingly soft, perfectly cooked.

Also inside the pot were some braised pork belly, duck confit, and house-made lamb sausage. Even for two, it was a hefty portion, so satisfying that we couldn't even think about dessert.

The only less-than-intriguing item on the menu was an appetizer described as "liver parfait with ruby red port glaze." I almost ordered it just to see what would appear. Call it fois gras and it would be more approachable, don't you think?

I didn't really need an escort to find the restroom, but the friendly, well-dressed hostess took it upon herself to walk with me as she pointed me in the right direction, and she seemed genuinely interested in whether I was enjoying my dinner.

Another time, I'd like to order the cheese course and ask the beer sommelier for some recommendations. And the massive chef's table facing the exhibition kitchen would be a great setting for a winter celebration.

Pasta like it's 1969

www.italianhomerecipes.com

Corso's Italian Restaurant
29691 Lorain Road
North Olmsted, OH

The dining room at Corso's reminded me immediately of my first "grown-up" restaurant, where I went on the occasion of my sixth birthday. (There was no prime rib on the children's menu, so I was allowed to order it off the regular menu, and I ate every bite, then got indignant when the waitress insisted that my daddy must have helped me.)

Black vinyl chairs and booths, rough white plaster walls, green tablecloths, a faux grape arbor over the bar -- not much appears to have changed over the years. Except this used to be a Hungarian restaurant named Szarca's, which explains the "Hungarian Wienerschnitzel" and paprikash on the otherwise traditional Italian menu.

Many of the diners who came out on an icy weeknight were ordering the spaghetti dinner special ($7.95 on Monday and Tuesday, $9.95 the rest of the week), a huge plate of pasta and red sauce, with generous, nicely seasoned meatballs.

I also tried the veal parmigiana ($17.99), which arrived swimming in tomato sauce and cheese. But underneath was a tender cut of meat, not a pressed veal patty, and the sauce tasted homemade.

Meals came with a simple salad of crisp Romaine and iceberg, shredded cheese, and a good creamy Italian dressing. About half of the wine list consisted of the usual, commonly available American wines. Most of the rest were Italian, but I also spotted a German Piesporter and a New Zealand sauvignon blanc.

The dinner menu also included fried chicken, filet mignon (the most expensive item at $19.99), barbecued pork ribs, broiled scrod, and crab-stuffed flounder.

Service was efficient, and waitresses chatted comfortably with the guests. Leftovers were packaged in white boxes, stacked and wrapped in cellophane like one of those gift towers from Harry and David.

Just curious: Why does "al dente" pasta require a $1 surcharge, according to the menu? Doesn't al dente mean you cook it less?

Austin airport limits

If you have to be stuck in an airport for 3+ hours*, Austin is not a bad place to be. I found interesting food, curious souvenirs, good books, and decent coffee. And the music playing through the place made me want a playlist: mostly blues and country, nothing I could identify, definitely not Muzak or top-40.

At Schlotzsky’s Deli, B had an Original sandwich, which consisted of ham and salami; melted cheddar, mozzarella, and Parmesan cheeses; garlic butter, olives, onions, tomatoes and lettuce, topped with a vinegar hot sauce. All of this was served on a good chewy roll, a little like a foccacia.

I wandered by the improbably named Waterloo Ice House, the home of “breakfast, beer, burgers.” Indeed, I spotted single-serving cups of breakfast cereal, granola bars, Coors on tap, and several kinds of burgers, chicken sandwiches, tacos and more.

The rest of us dined at the Wok ‘n Roll, which an electronic billboard noted was “family owned.” The lure was the fresh-looking buffet, which allowed me to pick up steamed rice and fresh fruit for my choosy little traveling companions, plus my favorite fast-food indulgence, “General Tso’s chicken,” that deep fried, spicy-sweet stuff that’s never the same twice. When I told the genial man behind the counter that I was looking for chicken with broccoli, he suggested that I come back in a few minutes for a fresh batch. The broccoli was nicely cooked, still bright green, and the chicken was tender. Even my sauce-hating eldest child had a few bites and allowed that it wasn’t bad.

All four of us loved Amy’s Ice Creams. I had a “tiny” (reasonably sized) cup of “pineapple upside-down cake” ice cream, loaded with chunks of yellow cake and maraschino cherries. I was intrigued by the“white lightning” flavor, but the guy behind the counter wasn’t certain what “contains alcohol” meant. He thought it might mean rum, which was about the last thing I needed in my time-zoned, altitude-adjusted state. There were four kinds of vanilla: sweet cream, Mexican vanilla, “just vanilla,” and honey vanilla. I was tempted to ask for a vanilla sampler. The Belgian chocolate was rich and decadent, like a good chocolate bar. E’s raspberry sorbet was bright as the berry and full of seeds, proof of its authenticity.

The non-chain bookstore had quite a bit more than the usual airport assortment of self-improvement, spy-thriller and mass-market religious titles. I could easily have picked up an interesting book or three, but my carry-on bag was already stocked.

I couldn’t think of any justification for these porcelain wiener dogs. They looked sheepish.

I followed signs for an art exhibit and finally found it stashed behind a gift store, facing the restrooms. There were photographs and paintings by local artists. I think they deserve a better location.

* Why was I stuck in Austin? We’d just been skiing at Copper Mountain, Colorado, and our non-stop flight home from Denver had been cancelled. The airline rebooked us through Austin. At least we got home on the same day, albeit a little later than we’d planned. Other people were more greatly inconvenienced.