Hot Dog Island

Some places sound too good to be true. Take Hot Dog Island, for example, a place heavily promoted by Delaware River Tubing, a company that offers to put you in an innertube, put you upstream in the Delaware River, and pick you up later. Midway through your happy float, you arrive on Hot Dog Island, a floating oasis of hot dogs, barbecue, veggie burgers and floating picnic tables. As I planned for this excursion, I began to think of HDI as a special, mythical place. Which is of course what it turned out to be.

When we arrived at Delaware River Tubing, we were warned that due to the high level of the water, HDI was closed. We were still, however, charged for the full price, which would otherwise have included a meal there. In fact, all of the prices at the tubing company say that the meal was included. But wait! One lost lunch was not the extent of the problems.

Cognizant of the weather forecast, I asked what the procedure was if there was a thunderstorm. We were told that boats would come by and pick us up. Armed with this protection, we happily floated for two hours before the clouds rolled in. No boats appeared. No boats appeared when it started to really pour. Oh and no boats appeared when lightning hit the hill across from us. Scrambling out of the water and up the embankment, things got even worse when one of my more outdoorsey friends noted, yes, that is poison ivy. When we flagged down the Delaware River Tubing school bus, we were immediately asked by the driver where all of the innertubes were. Survivalists that we were, we dutifully hauled up the tubes through the poison ivy. My conversation with the owner next day went equally badly, as he relayed his lack of sympathy in light of the business he lost due to the weather.

Hot Dog Island will remain a myth for me, and perhaps for you, if you take my advice and avoid Delaware River Tubing company altogether.

Photo credit to the Delaware River Tubing company website.

Blue Smoke

Part of the beauty of Philadelphia is being able to travel easily through the northeast. So easily, in fact, that I have come to regularly enjoy the day trip to New York. An hour and a half on Amtrak, and you can be in the middle of one of the most awesome cities in the world. It's still nice to come home, however, but it doesn't hurt to enjoy the trip.

On this particular trip, after some time at the Metropolitan Museum of Art and Central Park, my omelette rival and I headed to Blue Smoke, a self-described "urban barbecue." I chose this among MOR's proffered options because, well, it looked fun. It looked like a place where you could comfortably unwind after negotiating your way through a city that simultaneously drains and feeds your energy.

And it was fun. As is the case in all of New York City, I am constantly amazed at how great the service usually is, followed up shortly by a revelation that most of the servers in the city are, in fact, auditioning for their next acting gig. Hey, I'll take it. I don't care.

After ordering a dark rum mojito (an interesting twist but still quite good) and a Peak Organic beer (reportedly very tasty), we started with the calamari, which was about 50% fried batter and 50% calamari. I like fried batter as much as the next girl, so it wasn't the worst thing, but it was a little strange for a dish called "calamari." From there, MOR ordered the "Rhapsody in 'Cue," a pun-ny twist on the all-we-make-on-a-plate concept featuring Kansas City spareribs, pulled pork, smoked chicken, and sausage. The spareribs were too spicy for me, but the pulled pork and chicken were delicious, offering a good mix of moisture and smokiness. Blue Smoke offers a lazy susan of sauces at each table with which to dress everything, making me think that perhaps I, too, should get a lazy susan of sauces for my dining room. Everything's a little better with barbecue sauce, you know?

I opted for the sliced Texas beef brisket, with a 50/50 mix of marbled and lean. The ability to mix (or choose one) was ingenious, in my opinion, and I'm glad I got the mix. The marbled was delicious and rich, but an entire plate would have been too much. The lean was -- you guessed it -- a bit more dry, but still very good, especially with the Kansas City barbecue sauce. Accompaniments of fried onions and mashed potatoes were appropriate and delicious, if not more than a little rich.

Which made dessert all the better. I opted for a refreshing key lime pie, which was just that. MOR got a peach and blackberry cobbler, interestingly topped with small drop biscuits. The fruit was fresh, but dessert after that meal was a little much for both of us.

In addition to bubbly wait staff, Blue Smoke also offers live jazz downstairs, lots of seating and a handsome bar. All in all, a fun place to stop and eat -- and within walking distance of Penn Station. What's not to like about a place with its own handi-wipes?

Blue Smoke is located at 116 E. 27th Street, New York, http://www.bluesmoke.com/.

The Perfect Omelette

It only seems fitting that now, mere weeks before my 35th birthday, I have finally mastered the art of making an omelette. It came to me suddenly -- I no longer had to push in the cooked egg on the periphery, creating a swirling maze of overdone and done egg. Rather, I could use patience, let everything cook evenly, and, with a little bit of confidence, flip the whole omelette straight to perfection.

I share these tips with you, with some trepidation that maybe you, and everyone else, already knows these things. Nevertheless, here goes. Start with three eggs. De-shell (you knew that one, I know). Beat them in a bowl, with a fork, until they achieve a uniform consistency. In the meantime, melt a slab of butter in a non-stick pan, being careful to make sure the butter covers all of the pan and as much of the sides as possible.

Like so. When the butter is melted and is covering the entire pan, dump the three egg mixture into the pan. Turn the heat from high to medium. Let the eggs start to set a bit and then -- this was my revelation, so brace yourself -- start swirling. Initially, this will look a lot like the first picture, above. The idea is to get everything evenly cooked. Swirling the uncooked portion on the sides, around the cooked, will help this along. Don't be panicked by air pockets; they work themselves out. When you get to something that looks a little like this (in the course of less than a minute),

start swirling enough to loosen the entire omelette from the pan. Here, you're judging whether or not it's solid enough to flip, to finish off that last little uncooked portion. Try to have as much cooked as possible before your flip. The trick to flipping is to, while holding the pan handle, push forward very quickly, so that the omelette starts to lift, then immediately jerk your hand back, so the omelette flips back on to the plate. Practice with sauteing vegetables if it's easier. Confidence is key. As are two cups of coffee.

You may want to ignore what appears to be, but no one has yet to definitively confirm is, the spattering of raw egg around the pan post-flip. I have no idea where that could have originated, and am sure has nothing to do with prematurely flipping the omelette before it was cooked enough. Nothing to do with that. The important thing is, what remains of my flipped three eggs look very pretty in the pan (and, for the record, did land in the pan).

The next part is all up to you and is all, mercifully, downhill from here. I wimped out and used my pre-grated bag o' cheese from the store, and ended up with a straightforward cheese omelette. I enjoy putting some freshly cut chives on top, with a little salt. Variations on the theme can include yesterday's roasted vegetables, or mixing in fried onions into the initial egg omelette and adding lox as the filling, or whatever sounds good to you.

Okay, it looks a little overdone to me, too. I've got a couple of weeks until my birthday, I'll work on it.

Twenty Manning

This is not a restaurant review, but a short rant about one restaurant's rather unbelievable practice of spraying water on passers-by. First, I do love that thanks to some politicos' realizing what a benefit sidewalk tables would be to the city, restaurants are now allowed to offer al fresco dining, allowing me to enjoy people-watching, one of my favorite things to do. Second, I admit one of Philadelphia's shortcomings is rather narrow sidewalks. There's no Parisian expanse of concrete on which to place a flurry of tables in the summer months. So I trudge by places like Rouge and Devon, trying to walk in such a way to avoid tipping someone's glass over. I tolerate these minor inconveniences because I enjoy sitting outside, too, when I've managed to get off work early enough to snag a table.

However, I draw the line at Twenty Manning. I suppose that the "mist" is intended to cool off its own dining patrons. The water is aimed away from the tables; perhaps it's at a particular angle so that the tables will merely feel the sense of cool water. Instead, the water is aimed toward the rest of us, walking by, already crammed in on what portion of sidewalk on the already narrowed 20th Street is left. It is a mist, but you do feel the water on you. In other words, short of stepping out onto a fairly busy street, you can't avoid getting a little wet. Now I like a good slip and slide as much as the next girl, but more so when I'm in waterproof clothing and can actually elect to get wet. Unlike here.

Twenty Manning, what are you thinking?

Twenty Manning is located at 259 S. 20th Street, Philadelphia.

10 Arts

For foodies, and perhaps anyone who has watched Top Chef, Eric Ripert's name goes a long way. Pal of Anthony Bourdain, Ripert's quietly stylish reputation as a successful chef precedes him. Given the branded full name of 10 Arts "by Eric Ripert," the restaurant is clearly banking on this reputation. And reputation alone -- as my friend eagerly asked when we were seated, "is the chef here tonight?" she was firmly told, "yes, Chef Jennifer Carroll is in tonight." Which is of course not suprising, but nonetheless disappointing. Although the hostess, in response to my friend's smooth save, "oh good, I'm glad she's here," suggested that she might visit us, Chef Carroll instead made the rounds to other tables, patiently answering questions but looking very, very young and a bit awkward.

Equally suggestive of a restaurant banking on name alone, 10 Arts' menu is missing from any website or public forum. Perhaps given its recent opening, the restaurant hopes to continue to tweak the menu, but again, I found this disappointing. Also disappointing were the "Perfect 10" drinks, named after famous Philadelphia sites and people. My Eakins Elixer mix of blood orange juice, orange vodka and a third ingredient with a sugar rim tasted disappointingly like orange juice. The "Perfect 10" drink was a rather imperfect $12.
Onto better things. My tuna carpaccio, recommended by our server, was delicious, served with olive oil, chives, shallot and lemon. It was thin to the point of translucence with a delicate, fresh flavor. Less successful was the salmon rillette, a fairly bland taste of salmon and cream. The grilled shrimp with quinoa and herb salad featured three large shrimp and was described as "very good" by VBF.

My salmon entree was helpfully described as "wild," a fairly important distinction these days. Served with "savoy cabbage, red wine bearnaise," it was fairly raw and tasty. I missed any "bearnaise" part of the red wine sauce, which was a thin, salty, vaguely wine-like topping for my cabbage. The effect was a bit strong for the delicate salmon. Similarly, VBF's "Striped Bass 'Grand Mere,'" served with pearl onions, fingerling potatoes and wild mushrooms was done well, but included an overpowering savory sauce that I normally associate with red meats that became too much. The mini-hamburgers were good, served with a spicy mustard and ketchup on a brioche bun.

The desserts were excellent, however. All trendily named with flavors, I ordered "Chocolate Peanut Butter," and was treated to a chocolate peanut butter tart with a malted chocolate "Tastycake" ice cream. I have no idea where the ambiguous "Tastycake" flavor entered, however.

The decor remains that of a hotel lobby, albeit a fashionable one. This might explain the Philadelphia names sprinkled through the menu. We also perused the bar lounge menu, which may be superior to the restaurant offerings and included warm soft pretzel bites and other appetizer-size plates.

Perhaps I've grown too spoiled by the multitude of excellent options in Philadelphia for a bargain, but I found this straightforward, American eclectic menu to be overpriced. With a single drink, our bill came to $90/person, reinforcing my idea that 10 Arts is more about the brand. That being said, the tuna carpaccio was transcendant and the service extraordinary. On a return visit, I might stick with the lounge area.

10 Arts is located in the Ritz Carlton Hotel, at Broad and Chestnut Streets, Philadelphia, www.10arts.com.