Le Périgord

Le Périgord (405 E. 52nd St.)

Thanks to a small hiccup in my work schedule, my only obligation for the next day was a dinner reservation at Le Périgord, the 46-year-old classic French restaurant in Midtown East.  Blasting my air conditioner in defiance of the unseasonably steamy 90 degree evening heat, I curled up in my comforter with Garlic and Sapphires, the latest memoir by former New York Times Food Critic and Editor of Gourmet Magazine, Ruth Reichl.

Though I've recently indulged in several French-inspired meals, the current trend in this city of celebrity chefs and restaurateur empires seems to be American innovations on the classics using farm to table sustainable ingredients, often accompanied by an obvious lean towards fusion and recently, molecular gastronomy.  From my pre-meal research about Le Périgord, I knew that this experience would not involve any gimmicks, but rather a cuisine du terroir philosophy, focusing on quality local produce and longstanding classic tradition.  It only seemed appropriate that I fall asleep reading about a famous food critic's experience at a different French restaurant.  Page 241 reads:

"I start with the quenelles de brochet, because I feel like being self-indulgent and I love them so.  Very few restaurants still make these ethereal dumplings, a marriage of air and ocean, and even fewer do them right... They're a ridiculous first course--so big, so rich, so sure to make the next dish a disappointment--but I can never resist them... I take a bite and the softness surrounds my mouth with the taste of lobster, of fish, of butter and then it just dissolves, disappears, leaving nothing but the memory in my mouth.  And I take another bite, and another, and suddenly I'm floating on the flavor, and the world has vanished."

Until reading that passage, I'd never before heard of quenelles de brochet.  But Ruth Reichl's words excite me for my meal at Le Périgord tomorrow, and I fall asleep wondering if I'll ever experience these seafood clouds personally.  When I wake up in the morning, suffice it to say I've been drooling in my slumber.

The next evening, I treat myself to a town car.  When I find myself in dress slacks and a blazer anticipating a meal from an old school kitchen, it seems somehow out of character to hop on the subway.  To the naysayers of the restaurant's jacket requirement, I offer a simple rebuttal.  When a master chef is willing to draw upon decades of experience and excellence to dress a fine plate with culinary art, something beyond your everyday rags is the least you can offer in gratitude; not to mention that dressing up somehow always tends to make the experience just that much more splendid.

Upon exiting the black taxi at 52nd and 1st Ave., it takes me a moment to find the awning.  Unassuming, it simply whispers the name of the restaurant, blending in with the tree-lined street.  It would be difficult to spot if you weren't seeking it, and I can already begin to see the restaurant's appeal to such famous patrons as Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt.

Inside the front doors. I am immediately impressed by the elegant, yet unfussy warmth of the room.  A cast of seasoned male waitstaff donned in pristine white tuxedoes (black for the senior captain) float throughout, topping goblets of garnet wines, carving whole duck, and parading a gloriously decadent dessert cart laden with glistening rubies of raspberries, smooth chocolate silks, and caramel-kissed clouds of meringue.

While the captain shows me to the table where my dining companions are already seated, it's the ultimate exercise in willpower, demanding every last fiber of self-restraint not to greedily abduct one of those sugary orbs gently bobbing in a velvety pool of vanilla custard and quickly tuck it into my mouth.  It suddenly occurs to me that I am, indeed, the poster child for the effectiveness of a visible dessert cart in persuading a diner to save (or find extra) room for a final sweet course.

As I join my friends at the table, the head waiter pours me a glass of Paul Goerg, Brut Premier cru, a fresh, straw yellow flute of champagne with fine bubbles that tickle my tongue awake and excite me for the forthcoming feast.  It's after that initial sip that I look down at my menu in disbelief.  I'm not one for superstition, but if I were ever to believe in "The Secret" or the power of willing something into existence it is most definitely now.  Did the gods hear my dream last night?  Are they simply rewarding me for refraining from hijacking the desserts only moments ago?

Sure enough, the first course of the evening on the menu reads,  Quenelles de brochet sauce homardine... literally the precise dish about which I had been so enviously salivating the evening before.  "It isn't listed on our menu," the server explains, "but occasionally the chef prepares it as a special.  He hoped it might be an addition you would enjoy trying this evening."  Goosebumps run the entire length of my arm.  I already know this is going to be a very special dinner.

Perched on a pedestal of buttery risotto sits this little cloud of pike mousse truffle draped with a decadently rich lobster sauce.  Nearly as soon as my teeth sink into the first forkful, the morsel has in fact vanished, leaving only the kiss of the ocean on my tongue.  A mild fish dances with lobster sauce, giving way to (wait, do I taste sea scallops?) ocean waves, and a final slight tickle of spice on the back of my tongue from the magenta microgreens adorning it.  The mousse is, in fact, laced with scallops, the server affirms.

Though I want this sensation to last forever, I have no more self-restraint, and the plate soon holds only the shadow of the succulent and heavenly sea cloud.  Seeing both the pleasure and disappointment on my face, the server generously offers, "would you like another one?"  I would.  I would very much like to eat these all night, and then tomorrow for lunch, and dinner, and the next day, and...  "No, this one was just perfect."  I remind myself that duck, lobster, and other treasures await that equally deserve my enthusiastic appetite.

I've barely taken a sip of my 2008 Sancerre Les Tuilieres, and now a glass of 2005 Véro Chardonnay, Joseph Drouhin, comes splashing into a new crystal glass before me.  The initial sip is deliciously buttery but crisp, and slightly smoky, and like the tide, it takes with it the last breezes of the quenelle.

Now swimming before me are the most beautifully plump medallions of grilled crimson lobster in a coriander broth of sweet butter and white wine, seasoned with the shells and meats of the lobster.  Crisp gossamer shoots add both contrasting textures and temperatures, and I would have never guessed it, but the spunky flick of cilantro at the finish sings in perfect harmony with this steak of the sea.  I think that I would like my lobster prepared precisely this way every time, I exclaim.  The server asks for my e-mail address so that he can forward me the recipe.

Next comes a filet of halibut with golden scales of fingerling potatoes, skirted with a country mustard sauce and basil-infused olive oil.  A fish that ordinarily bores me, this halibut is breathtakingly tender, and gently falls into the sauce before I can even apply pressure with my fork.  Wilted greens and a purée of celery root add subtle tastes of the land kissing the ocean.  I agree with one other at the table that if the potatoes were actually crisp, it might have added an exciting element of texture that I do believe was intended, but who can complain?  The halibut is the main star, and it is prepared beyond perfection.  Le Périgord's filets, the waiter explains, are smaller and more intense in flavor than Alaskan halibut.  Here, the chef calls a fisherman in Boston whenever he needs the fish, they radio the fishermen at sea, and the fresh halibut arrives at Le Périgord the following morning.  It's a freshness you can taste, and won't easily be imitated elsewhere.

In the theater that is Le Périgord, if you do not order the canard a l'orange, but a table nearby does, you will most certainly leave feeling as though you've missed out on a special secret.  A cart is rolled table side with a team of two servers, the whole duck roasting on a silver platter above blue flames.  The room is instantly filled with the smells of Christmastime, the rich bird roasting, trailed by a descant of orange citrus.  As the team of two servers carve and dress the medallions, the entire room stops to watch this old-fashioned display of grandeur.

I prepare my mouth with a generous sip of the 2005 Cristian Moueix, Saint Emilion, a merlot-dominant bordeaux with a gorgeous balance of gentle ruby fruits and hardly even a trace of tannins, the perfect compliment to such a rich dish, and a refreshing duet with the essence of orange.

With this classic dish you delight in the exquisite enjoyment drawn from the combination of just a few very simple flavors.  Crisp golden skin, tender and rich meat,  a playful bundle of mandarin-kissed spaetzle, earthy grains of wild rice, and half-moon slivers of oranges bursting with sweet juice.  All of the flavors shine brilliantly on their own, but in this particular arrangement sing powerfully in chorus.  I am now afraid to ever again try duck a l'orange, for surely this rendition would be difficult to surpass.  One of my dining companions sighs quietly in sadness at the absence of breast meat on her plate, and moments later the server appears with two more medallions for each of us at the table.  It is an extravagant, generous, and simply wonderful gesture, and none of us complain (see the photo at the head of this post).

For dessert, the Grand Marnier soufflé was everything you could hope a soufflé to be.  An oh-so-delicate silk chimney hollowed by a stream of creme anglaise.  Following the coattails of our previous course, the Grand Marnier offers just an essence of spirited orange.  The elegant custard dances drunkenly with the frosted grape of the Chapelle St. Armoux Muscat de Beaumes de Venise Reserve 2005.  The table is silent, and I look around at each face.  Lost in an epicurean reverie, we are all smiling.

With overflowing demitasses of espresso comes a visit from the culinary wizard behind this elaborate feast.  When Chef Joel (pronounced Joe-ELL) Benjamin extends his hand in introduction, what I really want to do is quite simply hug him.  Not just because of the dinner he prepared.  He is very much "that guy."  As he speaks, his eyes twinkle with charm and charisma, and the whole table leans in to listen.  Refreshingly humble, his white chef's coat is crowned with a ball cap from Key West. "I have to be comfortable when I'm cooking," he laughs.  He regales us with fascinating stories from culinary school in France, moving back to American and starting at Tavern on the Green the very same day, along with his ten years in the kitchen at Lutece (where his father was Maître d') prior to taking the reigns here at Le Périgord eight years ago.  To my utter glee, Chef Joel tells me that if I will call at least one day in advance, he can also have quenelles de brochet for me whenever I visit!

As we sip coffee and nibble on madeleines and miniature chocolate mousse cups, it begins to sink in just how lucky I am to be sitting here.  It's a truly magical meal, orchestrated by a cast of waiters and a chef at one of the only remaining truly great, Old World French restaurants in New York.  I cannot imagine what it must feel like competing with the Thomas Kellers, Jean-Georges, Daniel Bouluds, and Daniel Humms of this culinary capital of the world.  But just as men and women flock to Lincoln Center for an evening at the opera, so will they continue to return to proprietor Georges Briguet's famous gem year after year.  For as long as diners cherish the classics, they will certainly find a memorable evening at Le Périgord.

Pizza fit for Queens

Sac's Place (25-41 Broadway, Astoria)

Depending on your personal pizza philosophy, you must carefully choose one of two very different entrances to Sac's Place on Broadway.  One leads you into a long and narrow room with glass cases for those who prefer a slice on the run.  If that's your approach, I respect it, but don't be surprised if the pizza didn't just come directly from the oven, which may or may not have been the coal oven (they reheat their slices in a regular convection oven, and even bake a few entirely in it).

For the diner who has a little more time to spare and truly wants to experience what I have come to enjoy as quite possibly my favorite pizza in Astoria, I recommend the doorway into the main dining room, where you are assured the pies are made fresh to order, thin and crispy, with a slight kiss of coal oven char along the edges.  And if you prefer homemade pasta, well then there's absolutely no excuse to be in a rush.

I first visited Sac's Place in early March, on a particularly wet and slushy day.  Though the actual wood-burning fireplace holds little appeal beyond cozy and rustic ambiance during the summer, I was grateful to be seating right next to the burning embers.

At Sac's Place, you instantly feel as though you have been handed a visitor's pass to a secret Astoria social club.  As I perused the menu that initial visit, it seemed that every table around me knew the next table over.  A gingerly old man dining solo propped his cane up against his chair, and without even glancing at a menu, the server asked him, "the salmon, right?"  The elderly man smiled and nodded.  A few tables over, two students were tearing into their pizza while quizzing each other for an upcoming exam.  The husband from the table next to them leaned over and inquired, "how's the studying goin' girls?  Seems you are always buried in the books when we see you."  And then along the far wall of windows a party of ten celebrated the Confirmation of one of their boys.  The server knew each guest by name.

While one of the owners, Domenico Sacramone (co-proprietor with his brother, Anthony) circled the dining room to welcome his regulars, I sat in awe, wondering how I'd never been here before, and quite honestly, not heard very much about this place.  Though I had yet to taste the food, it was evident that the brothers had gathered quite a loyal following, even if most of the tables during this bitter late-winter lunch were empty.  I was somewhat disappointed the brother approached literally every table except for mine before perching at the bar.  But by the time I finished that first meal, it didn't matter.  This place wasn't just good... it was great.

A few months passed, and somehow Sac's Place slipped from my mind, until Travis called me for lunch. He asked if we could go some place new for just some good ol' fashioned comfort food.  I told him I knew just the place.  It was time for a return visit to Sac's Place to see if the food was as delicious as I had remembered.

When we entered, Domenico was again sitting at the bar talking to familiar patrons, and didn't even seem to take notice that two strangers had entered.  But the gentleman who had been both host, server, and delivery order attendant the last time came briskly from the kitchen.  "Welcome back!" he smiled, as if genuinely happy to have earned my return visit.  And then he guided us to the indoor patio area, exclaiming, "please, sit anywhere you like..."  This time there were no handwritten specials in the menu as there had been the first time, and he seemed to notice my slight panic. "Don't worry," he smiled... "we have the lasagna today."  It was as if he had read my mind.

The ever-trusting and free-spirited Travis just laughed and closed the menu.  "Clearly you should order for both of us!"

The warm basket of bruschetta and focaccia is not for the weak of self-control.  Dressed in their signature sauce made from San Marzano tomatoes imported from Italy, these crunchy, buttery squares are more like tiny slices of pizza marinara, and could easily be devoured in seconds without the blink of an eye.  It's one bread basket from which you consume everything but the last crumb before even noticing it was accompanied by pats of butter.

We started off with an appetizer portion of the lobster and crab ravioli with sauteed shrimp in a Tuaca cream sauce.  These pillows of homemade pasta were stuffed with actual chunks of tender lobster and lumps of crab meat, beautifully gift-wrapped in sun dried tomato and squid ink squares.  The vanilla brandy cream sauce brought out the natural sweetness of the seafood, and offered a unique and simple showcase for the perfectly steamed pasta.

The pie that you simply have to try isn't even listed in their on-line menu.  They call it the Mama, named after the same woman who is responsible for making so many of the homemade pastas in the back of the house.  Travis and I had to laugh, as she peeked her head out several times throughout the meal to watch our faces for reaction.  It was sweet, and made me feel a little bit at home.

Mama's pie is made with a simple and perfect sauce with imported tomatoes, fresh mozzarella, whole basil leaves, and a drizzle of extra virgin olive oil.  The crust is buttery and delicious, with a crisp outer shell that gives way to a divinely soft and airy inner crust, making each bite equally enjoyable.  I have enjoyed many artisan pies, deep-dish Chicago pies, stuffed pies, thin-crust New York slices, you name it.  What I love about this pizza is that it combines all of the fresh Italian flavors of a true Neapolitan pie with the crisp and buttery crust I love about a good New York slice.  If you truly love pizza, this is the one in Astoria that you have to try, in my humble opinion.  Again, I cannot vouch for the slice you might order next door from their take-out counter, but this masterpiece that sits on a pizza stand towering above the table would be extremely difficult to beat.

Do you see that?!  In a warm iron skillet sits a footlong loaf of one of my absolute favorite Italian-American classics, Lasagna Bolognese (they do offer a vegetarian version, as well).  Though this beautifully executed rendition is not a part of the regular menu, it is typically run as a special every other weekend.  The ribbons of noodles are perfectly al dente, the beef tender and robust in the hearty tomato base, all held together by golden melted blankets of fresh mozzarella.  It's the closest I've ever had to my mom's version, and a dish that could quite honestly have me returning every other weekend.

 

For dessert, we asked which items were prepared entirely in house.  Though a few of the desserts are bought elsewhere, he was able to recommend a few fresh specialties.  The cannoli was the only somewhat disappointing moment in our meal.  Though the filling was decadent, sweet, and wonderfully light, the pastry shell was soggy.  I don't know if they had been filled in advance, or if the shells had been stored in a damp or  cold atmosphere, but it was certainly a let down. Nothing tastes better sometimes than a cannoli that has been freshly stuffed to order.

Our momentary frowns were instantly upturned, however, when we tasted the Tuacan sundae, almost like a bananas foster.  Warm golden medallions of banana are caramelized in vanilla brandy and spices, then topped with a generous dollop of vanilla ice cream.  Our server, who has worked nearly every post at Sac's Place (even the kitchen) prepared this dish himself.  It was a perfect ending to a wonderful lunch of Italian American comfort food not often paralleled in Astoria.  Though I have been told they serve one of the neighborhood's best brunches, I still want to try their shellfish in a spicy pinot grigio sauce or prosciutto-wrapped shrimp with pine nuts.  No matter what I try next, though, I can almost guarantee you will always see Mama's pie sitting somewhere on my table.

Winegasm

Winegasm (31-86 37th St., Astoria)

While the culinary arts have been at the foundation of my family for generations, I cannot claim that I come from a long line of drinkers.  We don't even have a shunned drunken uncle we discuss in hushed whispers or a notoriously boozing cousin.  My grandma claims she has never tasted a drop of alcohol, and we have no reason to doubt her.  The woman is over 90 years old and could still smoke me in a 50 meter dash.  One of my uncles is famous for his motto, "lips that touch wine never touch mine."  Although my mother is a little more daring, and has been known to enjoy a glass or two of vino, she notoriously prefers it either in a red Solo cup with a few ice cubes or from a box... a party in a bag, as my brother affectionately calls it.

When he and I finally decided we wanted to witness our parents drunk for the first time, we had to secretly spike the chocolate fondue at Christmas with the only-God-knows-how-old bottle of amaretto that had been fermenting in the "liquor cabinet" (a stash of maybe three randomly gifted bottles of liquor stored alongside the pots and pans).  The resulting affect on our mom was slightly slurred speech and an abnormally long mini-concert of piano duets with her best friend while wearing cardboard Victorian cherub masks from the Christmas tree.  Apparently, the worst my parents get with alcohol is an accidental repeat of "Rudolph, the Red Nosed Reindeer" or a slightly-botched lyric to "Frosty the Snowman."

Probably only near the Bible belt could someone truly develop an extensive background in cooking, yet harbor little to no affinity for wines whatsoever.  Elsewhere in the world, the two seem to me somewhat symbiotic.  But even at our Baptist church, communion consisted of crackers and tiny plastic shot glasses of Welch's grape juice.  So my first experience with wine (other than an occasional run-in with a bottle of Strawberry Hill, flavored apple wine by Boone's Farm) didn't come until much later in life when I began serving tables and attending wine classes as a part of the training.  My brain nearly exploded when I learned there were other vineyards besides just Ernest & Julio Gallo or Franzia.

Needless to say, I have since learned a significant deal more on my own, though this knowledge is no where near as second nature to me as my culinary understandings.  I sometimes feel like the drunken branch of my family tree, simply because I've actually been to a few vineyards, and attended a fair amount of tastings.  So when I found out that Astoria had a wine bar that offered not only a thoughtful and broad array of wines accompanied by delicious small plates of food, but also an actual wine school on Sundays, I jumped at the invitation to check it out.

Though we did not sign up for a wine class, my roommate and I sat down at the bar on a Wednesday early evening, where we were met by one of the owner's brothers, who also tends bar at Winegasm.  We were asked what drink we might like to try while waiting for the tasting to begin.  We perused the impressively diversified wine list, as well as the cocktail menu.

Because I didn't want to saturate my palate with anything that might taint the flights that had been planned for us, we chose to start with a simple white sangria and a glass of rose tempranillo (a Spanish grape typically used in the production of riojas).  The sangria, much to my surprise and pleasure, had been prepared two days in advance, as it should be, allowing the fruit to absorb the spirits, and the spirits to infuse with the natural citrus and sugars.  Winegasm's version, using triple sec, as well as peach and orange rums, was simply delicious and disappeared embarrassingly quickly.  For the amateur wine drinker or someone who simply wants a tropical escape from the heat, I highly recommend this fantastic concoction.  The tempranillo grapes also lent themselves to a delightfully substantial rose, darker and more full-bodied than most blush wines.

The room at Winegasm is rustic, romantic, and offers a high communal table spanning its length for large groups of friends, as well as more intimately tucked private tables for those who seek escape from the crowds.  Everything about the decor made us feel simultaneously relaxed and welcome.  Perfectly suitable for any occasion and any size of group.

The first small plate we sampled were roasted piquillo peppers stuffed with herbed goat cheese ($6).  The peppers were remarkably tender and tangy, and the goat cheese silky and buttery.  Even during this very first dish, we noticed that the cook here uses truffle oil throughout much of the menu the way any other chef might dash salt or pepper for seasoning.  It was decadent, delicious, and a perfect way to commence the tasting.  This was paired with a crisp and citrusy glass of Argentine Torrontes ($8) that really cut the richness of the cheese, and allowed the piquant flavors of the roasted peppers to shine.  I would most definitely repeat this combination again.

Next, we enjoyed the truffle crostini, loaded with wild mushrooms, asparagus, fontina cheese, and again truffle oil.  This disappeared almost as quickly as the sangria had in the beginning, and for $6, it would be hard to find a more delicious and affordable tapas on their menu.  It was balanced perfectly with a slightly buttery, yet crisp pinot grigio.

Next came a dish about which I have read several rave reviews, the smoked bacon wrapped prunes ($5).  While the savory and sweet elements were a perfect pairing, the room around us was getting busier, and we began to notice a slight change in the atmosphere.  The bartender, now busy, accidentally poured us another glass of the Torrontes (a repeat of the first round) as he began to come somewhat unraveled in the slight influx of customers.

The cook, who miraculously does acrobatic sautee on just a couple of hot plates in a makeshift kitchen, was now juggling a few more orders, and unable to focus completely on each dish individually.  The texture of the bacon was a little too similar to the warm, soft-centered prunes, and began to mush perhaps a little too much in our mouths and stick a wee bit too vigorously to our teeth (you can still see bubbles of bacon fat in the photo above).

It was at this point that the owner, with whom I had been scheduled the initial tasting, actually arrived, and swooped in to save the near miss, presenting a platter of tallegio, white cheddar, and sheep's milk cheese, garnished with raisin toast, dried apricots, and pine nuts.

He quickly removed the Torrontes as if he had been witnessing everything from a remote video monitor, smiled, and introduced himself, while placing us yet another platter of shaved speck, soppressata, and smoked duck.

With the arrival of Dean, who acts as both co-owner and sommelier, came a burst of energy and enthusiasm, and reason alone to make Winegasm a regular destination.  As he served the remaining courses, he paired each with the perfect glass of wine, explaining the history of each vineyard, the significance of the region, along with anecdotes of how he came to fall in love with each selection.

Wine bars are increasingly a dime a dozen, and sometimes not altogether the friendliest of venues.  Dean offered a refreshing balance of an obvious knowledge and contagious enthusiasm for wines, but none of the snobbery or affectation I so often receive from self-proclaimed connoisseurs.  He is both charismatic, friendly, gracious, and enthusiastic to share his understandings of wine with you.

While it may have been a little hearty and robust for a warm spring evening, this prime roast cassoulet in provencal gravy with vegetables and mashed potatoes tasted like Christmas in June.  If you come with an appetite that surpasses the need for mere tapas, I could not more wholeheartedly recommend this dish ($12).  This was paired with a lavish flight of three robust glasses of blended varietals (pictured at the top of the post), a definite highlight of the evening.

 

Unfortunately, by the time the scallops on a garlic polenta pancake arrived, the room was bustling at its peak for the evening.  Though the scallops were fresh, and most generously stacked with wild mushrooms, they were sadly somewhat overcooked and a little dry.  When I return (and I most definitely will), I will watch the temperature of the room and the orders being submitted, and perhaps reorder this earlier on when I know the cook has ample time to do it justice.  Again, the scallops were large and fresh... just drained of some of their natural flavors, and perhaps over-blanketed with garlic and butter.  We did agree, however, the pairing with a glass of Lugana was simply perfect... an Italian white wine, slightly oaky, and nutty. 

For dessert, we were treated to a delicious glass of Dolce Stilnovo, a surprisingly light, sweet dessert red, with decadent swirls of berries.

And how can you go wrong with a molten chocolate cake with a dollop of vanilla ice cream?

I still need to return a few more times, perhaps sample the truffle mac 'n cheese, and perhaps the red sangria.  But I can already tell you that Winegasm is the perfect place to enjoy a glass of wine, whether novice or expert.  The list has been carefully crafted by a team of owners who share an obvious passion for wine, as well as great service.

If you can finagle a seat at the bar with either Dean or Laris, I can't imagine a more enjoyable or informative evening.  Wine classes are offered in small groups (more info on the website link above) and would undoubtedly equate to a perfect Sunday afternoon with friends.  If the room is busy, I might stick to a cheese and meat plate (they were delicious) with a wine flight (all affordably priced by the glass).  If the pace is somewhat calmer, definitely enjoy a sample of the kitchen-prepared dishes.

Canz is gonna crush it

Canz (40-11 30th Ave., Astoria)


You may not have pegged me for a wings & pint kind of food blogger, but truth be told, I got my start in the restaurant industry as a server and bartender at an extremely busy and popular brewery in downtown Indianapolis.  Yes, I had to keep the sports section posted behind the bar so if a patron asked for a certain  game on any given television I'd at least know whether he was watching football or hockey, but nonetheless, I did develop a primal craving for an ice cold pint and a good ol' fashioned wing sampler.

When Canz opened last night for a friends and family soft opening, you had better believe I had to peek my head in to find out what it was about.  And then today for lunch, when they finally offered the full menu, you can bet I was propped right back up on the bar stool to sample a few more things (of course I conned a few friends to come along for the ride each time, as well).

My initial verdict?  It may not be a "gastropub" in the popular definition of the term flying around New York magazines and blogs.  You won't find truffled mac 'n cheese or house made gourmet sausages.  But for really, really, darn tasty Americana, this place is gonna be hard to beat.  I'd even venture to say it may give Astoria's reigning golden child, Sweet Afton, a run for its money.  Quite the opposite extreme in philosophy, at Canz you have over 30 enormous flat screens where they will be showing even pay-per-view events, along with all the major sports channels.

With over 45 beers on draft (including local microbrews from Fire Island and Coney Island), as well as a generous selection of bottles and cans, there's virtually a frosty beverage for every palate.  From Irish Cream Ale to a Watermelon Wheat, from Boddington's to Kirin Ichiban, they've got nearly every corner of the globe covered.

We even tried the "Jungle Juice", an enormous fishbowl of vodka, rum, tequila, triple sec, orange juice, pineapple juice, and a splash of grenadine.  Tacky?  Maybe.  But it sure was delicious.  And for $30 we certainly got much more punch for the buck than if we'd ordered individual cocktails.

As soon as you sit down, endless bowls of popcorn arrive at the table, and are replenished throughout the evening until you've had your fill.

The menu ranges from goat cheese salads to a New York Strip, yellowfin tuna to homemade tacos (Taco Tuesdays will feature a complimentary Corona or Tecate beer with an order of the tacos).  They even offer a lamb burger in the spirit of the neighborhood.  But of course the star of the menu is the array of wings, available with buffalo sauce, BBQ, asian, terriyaki, or dirty canz wings (flaming hot).  I have tried a few of the wing specials in the area, and this is where I think Canz will have almost no competition.  Monday nights from 8-11 pm, $25 gets you unlimited wings and draft beers.  These wings are the real deal.  Crispy fried outer skin, with plump and tender chicken beneath.  The Asian wings were my favorite, with tiny bits of scallion, sesame seeds, and a deliciously sweet hoisin sauce.

Another personal favorite was their barbecue pulled pork sandwich.  Lean, tangy, piled with a generous portion of meat on a toasted egg bun, served with sweet potato fries (though we substitute traditional golden fries).

The roast beef dip was absolutely delicious.  Thin-sliced, deliciously tender medium rare strips of roast beef are layered on ciabatta with melted mozzarella, homestyled garlic mashed potatoes (smooth, with buttery lumps of whole spuds), with a ramekin of au jus for dipping.

Generous cones of salty and tender golden fries are the perfect snack.  They even offer mac 'n cheese dumplings, as well as soft pretzel fingers with honey mustard.

I am not ashamed to admit that we definitely tried, and unanimously enjoyed the deep fried Oreos with a side of whipped cream.  During the friends and family tasting, they were also served with fresh blackberries and blueberries, which we missed at lunch today.  Obviously with only a few hours under their belt, there are a few details to iron out.  But all in all, we were certainly impressed on both occasions.

The back room doubles as a small beer garden, with license plates, hubcaps, and oak casks lining the walls; the roof retracts in good weather for an al fresco atmosphere.  This will probably become a big draw for the Sunday Brunch, named Kegz & Eggs, featuring $20 fish bowls of mimosas.

Of course you will instantly draw parallels to Hooters.  You can smell the testosterone in the air, and the girls are clad in denim daisy dukes with mountain boots, and black tank tops.  But I can honestly say that each server we met was extremely knowledgeable about the menu and beer selection, and excited to be in the neighborhood.

It's difficult to pass much of an assessment after just 24 hours of business, but my gut feeling is that Canz is going to do extremely well.  Only the second location (the first, in Westbury, NY reached an exceeding level of popularity), it maintains a genuine friendly character.  The space (formerly occupied by Vibe) is impressive, and they certainly put a great deal of effort in without revealing anything in the process.

Though you will still probably find me around the corner at Mix enjoying martinis and Sunday Morning Mimosa, Canz is a little too tempting to resist on occasion.

Offering only dine-in and carry-out, they open daily at 11 am, closing at 2 am Sunday through Thursday and 4 am Friday and Saturday.