Bad Service, Slimey Pork Sandwich Puts Fork in Brother Paul's as Viable Dining Option

“Why did we stop going to Brother Paul’s?”

This is the question I asked my wife when we were thinking of going to the Eagleville, Pennsylvania establishment a couple weeks ago. The reasons were somewhat vague in my head. I sort of remember friends of ours saying they got hassled about coming into play darts too late? I think there was something where another friend wanted a certain sort of glass for his beer and it was seen as a major affront by the staff. There may have even been something in there about a waitress being generally rude. But we couldn’t really remember so I figured we should make a return trip.

Anyway, now that we have returned, the reason for our lack of patronization over the last few years has been crystallized anew: The service blows. And the food isn’t much better.

Copabanana: It Simply Hasn't Aged Well

I mentioned earlier in a post about Tapestry’s Cirque du Saison event that we had also hit South Street’s Copabanana. There is a reason for that: You see, the wife is pregnant. She is always hungry and she always has to pee. The hunger part: The barbecue sandwiches Tapestry was serving seemed to be recklessly overpriced so she wanted to go someplace else to eat. The pee part: We were looking for someplace else when she told me she had to go to the bathroom, so we had to end the hunt for the hot new Zagat-recommended hipster hangout to be named later and go to the closest place possible. That was Copabanana.

I will say that Copabanana used to be a major attraction for us during the days when we used to frequent the area. First of all, they made terrific margaritas and a wonderful variety of the drink at that. They also made some darn good nachos, some of the best in town if you were to ask us, and we fashioned ourselves as major nacho aficionados (in other words, we once struggled with weight issues).

Well, it has been a long time since our man-about-town salad days. These days, it takes a Congressional order to get us out of Norristown. And in the time between these two periods of our lives, it would appear that Copabanana has fallen on hard times. Its neon décor has become a bit quaint in these days where “authenticity” is in such high demand. Their menu lacks adequate beer choices, which is fairly rare in a time where Philadelphia has emerged as perhaps the greatest beer city in America. And…well, let’s just say, in order to eat outside we had to present a driver’s license that the establishment would hold onto until we had paid for our meal. The place’s clientele must leave something to be desired if a diner eating al fresco is being looked upon as a Watergate-burglar-in-training.

In any event, this being Philly Beer week, I WAS going to have a beer while eating. I perused the menu for options and there were few. There was Victory Golden Monkey, which is always an enjoyable treat. It can get you somewhat bombed though. There was Dogfish 90 Minute, which apparently qualifies as an adventurous IPA for the not-so-adventurous palette. And then there was Allagash White. I was very confused to see it on the menu. Therefore, I felt it was the one I had to try. It was just a classic, incredibly refreshing wheat beer. Even without a glass (none was offered and I was afraid to ask, fearing that I would fall victim to some sort of mysterious craft beer hate crime at the hands of one of the street’s consistently menacing passersby), the flavors popped. Orange. Something banana-esque. Some coriander spices. I might have gotten a second one if the service wasn’t a bit spotty, our waitress disappearing for 10 to 15 minutes at a time.

For food, we ordered a plate of their primo macho nachos, a side of their Spanish fries, and an order of steak tacos. The nachos were still awesome, packed as they were with chili, jalapenos, salsa, and sour cream. It’s not a gourmet treat and you get the idea that the ingredients are extremely store-bought. (Kidding. I didn’t get the idea. I know it because I saw a manager coming back from a local store with, like, eight bags full of Ortega taco shells for making of the establishment’s tacos. Then I hilariously heard some nearby workers ragging on the poor sap because he had bought the wrong item. They needed tortilla chips, not taco shells. DUH!) Still, I believe that the item is worth the price of admission simply for the pure amount of accoutrements. I didn’t consume a naked chip. This is key.

The other items unfortunately did not earn any sort of rave, on a curve or otherwise. First of all, the steak tacos were served in some sort of odd soft shell. It wasn’t a full tortilla. It was cut in half or something. It was as if the establishment was afraid it was going to run out of shells (see previous note: it probably was). The actual steak was tough and overdone, and the flavor wasnonexistent. As for garnishments, the salsa was really scarce, the lime hard to detect, and the odd choice of a radish simply did not appeal. As for the Spanish fries, Copabanana’s website calls the dish “famous.” But if this is the case, they must be famous in the same way that Kim Kardashian or Paris Hilton is famous. In other words, it wasn’t earned and certainly isn’t based on merit and accomplishment. Nothing about the dish, slathered as it is with cheese and jalapenos, marks it as something you would want to experience a second time.

If you choose to go to Copabanana, I sure hope it is because you want to see a girl of moderate fitness wearing see-through, tight white jeans with black-and-white zebra striped underwear. That is there for the taking. Believe me, I saw it and still have not recovered. However, if you are there for a delicious meal and a diverse group of beer offerings, you might want to keep on walking.












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The Pizza Project
Just a nibble: http://twitter.com/ThePizzaProject
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Iron Hill Brewery Proves Good Weather Goes Better with Beer and Nachos

As horrible as the weather has been the last two days, it's easy to forget how nice it was just this weekend. Saturday was eating-outside weather so we did just that, hitting up Iron Hill Brewery in Phoenixville, Pa. We were looking for something cheap to eat because we were set to go to a Philadelphia brunch (most likely at Northern Liberties' PYT) the next day. However, a couple circumstances aligned to allow us to set our sights a little higher: 1) We were not able to find a suitable pizza place on Bridge St., which is sort of surprising and 2) our brunch date for Sunday cancelled on us, leaving us eligible for slightly more expensive fare. With Iron Hill inexplicably featuring two open tables on their patio despite the fact that there was a wait inside, we jumped at the opportunity to dine al fresco.

First on the menu was an order of Loaded Nachos. At first, I was a little disappointed because Iron Hill's version of the dish does not come with salsa, instead going with a pico de gallo to accompany guacamole and a heaping dollop of sour cream. I find that salsa is often more spicy than pico and it does a better job of covering the nachos. It's just a preference. What can I say? This being said, the pico tasted incredibly fresh and the rest of the ingredients - black beans, jalapenos, monterey & cheddar cheeses, and especially the fajita grilled chicken - were supplied in bulk, ensuring that none of the delicious corn nachos were enjoyed in naked fashion. The wife - a major nacho fan - especially reveled in this dish. At one point, I took our kid to the bathroom and the plate was 3/4 full. When I returned from the sojourn, it was as if a gang of passers-by ambled through and joined in the consumption, leaving us with a near-empty plate.

For the main course, I partook in the establishment's House Smoked Pork Sandwich while the wife sampled - this being a pizza site - a Voodoo Chicken Pizza. I can't say enough about the pork sandwich, which I proceeded to take apart with unbridled abandon. The pork was juicy, tender, and ample. The sauce, while not thick, tasted of sugar, molasses, vinegar, tomato, and a bunch of other ingredients I would not be able to identify because I was stuffing my face so fast. They supplied a little extra juice on the side for additional moistening. Obviously, from the sound of my food selections thus far, I am a bit of a health nut. So I went with a salad instead of the fries on this day. It's a side salad, so there is nothing really there to go crazy about, but I will say that I liked their Italian-style house dressing and the fact that there was a lot of it. I hate how often times side salads are served with limited dressing and end up tasting a little dry.

The wife could probably give a better opinion on the Voodoo Chicken pie - which featured bacon, red onion, green bell peppers, smoked gouda, mozzarella, and barbecue sauce - but I did have a couple slices and can attest to its quality. I am automatically going to be a little against a pizza that does not have red sauce. Often, I just don't see the point in such a venture. However, the spicy barbecue sauce of this pie was a quality substitute (personally, I would have liked more of it) and the bell peppers packed a mysteriously powerful punch. The gouda didn't bother me too much and the chicken was a very distinct white. It was clear that Iron Hill uses only the best ingredients in the makings of their pies. Throw in a great crust - perfect texture and thick while not being doughy - and you have a wonderful pizza from a place for whom you would not think the dish would be a specialty. It made me excited to get back there and try the red sauce pie.
Of course, there is nothing like a beer in the open air and there was no way I was going to nosh at Iron Hill without indulging in one or two of their sudsy spirits (as I'm sure you realize, it is the entire reason I put the idea of eating at Iron Hill in my wife's head). The first beer I ordered was Ironbound Ale, a pale ale of amber color. When I first lifted it to my lips, I picked up a bit of an off-putting smell. However, I suppose bad scent does not always translate to a poor-quality beer. In this case, I would say it translated to an "average" beer. While the item had some hop power, it fell a little bit short in my estimation, so much that I was a little bit bummed that I missed the sheet featuring specials when our very friendly and attentive waitress first came to our table.

When she arrived to take a second beer order, I did not make the same mistake. I jumped at their Saison and I was not disappointed. Boasting a cloudy, golden appearance, the beer packed a variance of flavors. There were subtle Belgian notes, yes, but I also picked up something that resembled raspberry. The fruity vibe was set off by a rustic, earthy taste in the finish. It was a very good beer, and one that left me wishing I had time for more.

But alas - much like our recent sunny weather - visits to drinking establishments when you have kids are fleeting. I was forced to leave Iron Hill before my time, but it's not like I wasn't there long enough to realize that they serve good food and beer that, while it isn't always perfect, definitely leaves you feeling like you would want some more.
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Iron Hill Brewery & Restaurant
130 E. Bridge St.
Phoenixville, PA 19460



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The Pizza Project
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New York Edition: Pinche Taqueria Merits Both a Rave and a Word of Warning

Let me quickly knock out a review of Pinche Taqueria because the lag time between food consumption during our New York trip and actual discussion of said mastication is getting absolutely ridiculous. It has been like 18 days since I sampled the grub at this Mott St. eatery – one of two New York locations – and what follows is what I remember about our excursion.

Being that our blog is entitled The Pizza Project, it was our intention to sample as much New York City pizza as possible during our trip. To this end, we entered Lombardi’s Pizza with our sights on a circular, flour-and-dough-based delicacy with oozing cheese and delicious red tomato sauce. We spied an offering that someone was eating at an adjacent table and we immediately commenced salivation, Pavlov’s Dog-style. However, this is where everything began to go awry.

Poor Service Spoils a Fine Getaway to Cabanas in Cape May

This Labor Day, we shot down to Wildwood for a family get-together. On one particularly rainy day, the little guy simply did not want to take a nap. So we decided to go for a ride and see if that would help him slip off into Dreamland. To our satisfaction, the ploy worked and a drive around Wildwood quickly turned into an excursion to Cape May. The farthest shore point has always been a favorite of ours and one place where we have had a couple good experiences is Cabanas Beach Bar and Grill. On this day, we decided to stop in and get an appetizer and a couple of drinks before a dinner later that night.

While the vibe of Cabanas may be a bit on the kitschy side, I have always enjoyed it. I like the Caribbean feel of the decor. The Bob Marley tunes blaring out of the speakers really add to a relaxing atmosphere. For our appetizer, we decided to try the Mexican Nachos Grande, a plate of tortilla chips with pulled pork, refried beans, jalapenos, pico de gallo, and other pleasing toppings. I thought the dish worked very well, although I can admit to being a person who prefers a wet salsa to a pico de gallo. I think it works better for dipping and ensuring that your chips are never naked. This slight lack of ingredients was the main complaint of Spicy, who felt there were times when more toppings, especially the pulled pork, could have been in order. For myself, I can say that I did not think this was a major violation on their part. The toppings were a little tough to get to, what with some of them being under the chips, but I did not feel Cabanas was delinquent in their topping distribution. It just required the breaking out of forks and knives at times.

The Rare Night Out: Rock Bottom Restaurant and Brewery

Last Thursday, I was coming home from work and for some reason I just started thinking about Rock Bottom Restaurant and Brewery. I don't know why. Maybe it was a long day. Maybe the daily pressures of child-rearing had just added up. But for whatever reason, I was thinking about the place and their incredible Thursday deal where they offer their very stellar brews for $2 each. I had decided. I was going to ask Wifey if we could go there for dinner. So imagine my surprise when i walk through the door and she tells me that her parents had OFFERED to watch Saucy Jr. so that we could go to Happy Hour! Unbelievable! After going through a few alternative choices (Capone's, Brother Paul's, the always reliable Chap's), we settled upon Rock Bottom, my choice from the beginning.

Tale of 3 Pies: The Little Treehouse, Fox & Hound, and Domino's

As a true pizza fanatic, I'm not ashamed to say that I ate pizza three times last Friday and was totally in the mood for it again by the time Saturday rolled around.

To quickly recap my three pies of the day:

Lunch
The nibble and I met a friend and her two girls at The Little Treehouse for some playtime and a bite. It's an indoor play space with a small jungle gym, make-believe play stations and several toys and books, as well as a small cafe with tables and chairs. Cool concept (and certainly lucrative at $8.50 per child), but I'm not sure it's a place we would frequent. Perhaps it's just that I don't have many mommy friends and I certainly cannot see myself going there to meet/talk to randoms. Or it might that most of the children over two were girls, which tipped me off to the fact that loud, energetic boy play probably isn't the thing to do there. Or maybe it's just that I don't like taking off my shoes in strange places.

The Rare Night Out: Tamarindos Mexican Restaurant

With a sixteen-month old at home, the wife and I don't really get to go out much. However, the other night was one of our friend's birthday parties so my sister-in-law was gracious enough to do some babysitting (thanks, Elio!). So out we went to Tamarindos Mexican Restaurant in Ambler for a night of drunken fun and frivolity.

Before I touch on the food, let me discuss the atmosphere. It was a good place for our party, in that they had the music pumped up pretty loud. We tend to get somewhat loud, especially at a BYOB. So I would imagine the customers were probably wondering why the music had to be cranked, but it probably saved them from having to hear a lot of voluminous (and sometimes crude - the cruder the better in fact) laughing and joking. If I were to have my druthers, however, I probably would have wanted them to turn it down a little bit. It was impossible to hear a person more than one seat away from you (I had to strain for a discussion with the person right across the table from me) and the waitress was helpless to shout out the specials (she had to do them twice, once at each end of the table).