The Camera Never Lies ... But The Light Meter Might

First impressions are as important in the culinary world as they are in the business world. As human beings, we tend to embrace every experience with as many senses as we have available. Before we taste food, we smell it. Before we smell it, we look at it. And before we look at it, we can hear it being prepared and coming our way. How often have you been in a Mexican restaurant and heard the sizzling fajitas approaching before you ever see it? Like a Pavlovian dog, just hearing that noise causes you to salivate in anticipation.

For those of you who have been reading my blog for a while (and thank you, by the way), you may have noticed a trend over the last nine to twelve months that my food pictures have gotten better and better. Until roughly one year ago, I was taking all of the pictures you see on my blog with my cellphone camera. It was convenient, it was inconspicuous, and it did an okay job in better lit restaurants. The problem was trying to get a good picture at the darker restaurants, the Momocho's, the L'Albatros's, the Greenhouse Tavern's of the world. Even though my cellphone camera had a flash on it, it was so dark that the darn thing couldn't even focus.

So, I decided to upgrade to an actual camera. A Canon G12 point and shoot to be exact. And then over the course of the next year, I actually upgraded twice more, first to a Canon Rebel t3i and finally to a Canon EOS 60D. I won't go into the nuts and bolts of why I upgraded, but let's just summarize by saying that as I became more proficient, I realized I needed a more capable tool. And that is a perfectly valid reason why a lot of people spend more money and upgrade to a better camera.

The problem, however, is that from the cheapest point and shoot to the most expensive professional camera out there, if you don't take control of the camera, you will get crappy food pictures in restaurants. Many people put the camera in fully automatic mode, point the camera at a plate of food, and think that is all that needs to be done. In a well-lit restaurant or outdoors in the sunlight, you might be right. The camera can reduce the shutter speed enough where even being handheld is possible without blurring. But in a moderate to dimly lit restaurant? Game over.

Today I met up with a friend at Hudson's Restaurant in Montrose for a beer and some much needed catching up on our respective lives. We went back and forth about what we had been up to and when we got into my recent food photography, I was explaining to her that I always shot in Manual exposure mode because it gave me full control over the resulting picture. Since I am a bit of a control freak, this style of shooting perfectly fit with the pictures I was taking. She didn't believe me when I told her that were I to set the camera to one of the automatic modes, that it would take a crappy picture.

"Fine," I said, "I'll prove it."

We had ordered an appetizer off of the menu to split. I mounted my $1600 camera (including lens) to my tabletop tripod, set the little dial to the "green square" (which is fully automatic on my Canon), and pressed the shutter button. The on-camera flash popped up, the picture was taken and here was the result:


Wait a minute, now ... what is that large gray area at the bottom of the plate? That would be the shadow where the light from the flash couldn't reach to illuminate it. The other problem you may notice is that the light falls off the further back it goes on the plate, so even without the large shadow in the front, the light level isn't even.

Okay, then, so flash is out. By switching the mode from Auto (green square) to Program AE (P), the camera would still pick out all of the settings without using the flash. This would be equivalent to what most people would pick on their cameras when shooting food in a restaurant. Surely it must be better, right? Let's see:


Ack!! What's with all of the gray? Last time I checked, most restaurants served food on whites plates, not gray ones. The problem here is that the light meter built into every single camera (which basically measures the reflected light off of the subject) are programmed to expect 18% reflected light. This number was determined many decades ago when an analysis of thousands of photographs revealed that, on average, 18% of the light striking the subjects reached the film in the camera. So, in the case of Program AE (P) mode, since most of the scene above is reflected white light, the camera toned down the light in order to meet the 18% value. If you've ever taken a picture of a snowy day and wondered why the snow appeared gray and not white, this is the reason.

Okay, enough horsing around. It's time for me (the photographer) to take charge of the camera. In order to set the correct color balance, I pulled out my handy "gray card":


This is literally a 8 1/2" x 5 1/2" cardboard card that I keep with me at all times in my bag that is 18% reflective on one side. Resting the card on my water glass, I used my camera's controls to set the white balance. White balance, for those who might not know, is also referred to as color temperature. If you've ever taken a picture of something white and it appeared a bit blue or yellow, this is due to the type of lighting illuminating your subject. In Hudson's today, the lights above the bar were incandescent bulbs, which tend to make white look yellow.

After obtaining a proper white balance, I switched my camera into Manual (M) mode, selected my settings and took this picture:


This was the picture as it came straight out of the camera. The only alteration I made to all of the pictures above was to correct for barrel distortion and resize them for this blog post. As you can see, when *I* selected the shutter speed and aperture, I managed to capture what I think is a much better exposed picture. Of course, my camera thought the image was too bright, but I simply ignored its suggestion and went with my own.

Once out of the camera and into my photo processing software, I barely tweaked a few color settings to make the image look its best:


I'd suggest you open the images up side by side. The differences are quite subtle. And then open up the first two images and compare the first two to these last two. Big difference, eh?

Okay, fine, so this was in a moderately dim restaurant. What about a real challenge ... say, a really dark outdoor patio around 9 pm where I couldn't even see my dining partner's facial features anymore? I'll take that challenge.

Last Friday I met my friend Elizabeth at Basi Italian Restaurant in Victorian Village located north of downtown Columbus, Ohio. We arrived around 7 pm and they sat us at a quaint little table for two on the patio, just outside of the bar. As we ate and chatted, the sun began to set and by 8:30 or so, the only light source was from the thin sparse strings of white Christmas lights adorning the bar. At that point, I took this picture of our table:


The light you see reflected off the table came from those Christmas light strands. When the dessert finally arrived, it was so dark that not only did auto-focus fail to work, but when manually focusing the lens, I had to use the light from my cellphone in order to properly do so. Once I got everything ready, I pushed the shutter button to take the picture and fifteen seconds later, I got this:


Now, granted, I did do some work on that photograph to optimize it. But it didn't take very long and I don't even think I could've gotten that picture had I set it to one of the automatic settings. By the way, just so there is no confusion, no flash was used to take that picture. And I don't lie, it really was that dark.

So what is the take away from all of this? If you want to take good pictures of food in not-so-great lighting conditions, you're going to have to take control of your camera and get out of the automatic exposure settings. You'll probably also need to get a tabletop tripod, too. Is my new rig a bit more conspicuous at restaurants? Absolutely. But I've discovered through a lot of trial and PLENTY of error, that there just isn't any other way to get consistently good pictures.

Kitchen Challenge: Insanely Good Cooked Cabbage

One would assume that by looking at the breadth and longevity of work on this blog that I come from a background of family members who love to cook. One might also assume that I come from a long line of adventurous eaters, always looking to try a new ethnic cuisine and going way off the beaten path in order to track down the little mom and pop eateries that don't just put out a plate of food, but a plate of food with soul. You'd be wrong.

My grandmother came from an era of convenience foods, a time when food companies successfully convinced mothers that they would have more time to spend with their burgeoning families if they used processed products and as a result, be better mothers and wives. Sure, we've all used a can of this or a box of that in a pinch, but this brave new world became so entrenched and so easy that many of the food traditions got lost along the way. And what one generation realized was a culinary shortcut, the next didn't recognize as a shortcut at all. Such is my mother.

Even though I have loved cooking since a very young age, the wool was pulled over my eyes, too. Want to make Green Bean Casserole? Well, clearly you need a can of Campbell's Cream of Mushroom soup! To think any other way was simply inconceivable. My gastronomic epiphany came about when food companies were finally required by law to put not only nutritional and portion information on each product, but also list the ingredients in order from most to least. It has always baffled me when food companies try and separate themselves from the competition by announcing new products aimed at lower sugar, salt, or fat. Why not just change their current product line to make them healthier in the first place? But I digress.

My point (and yes, gentle reader, I do have one) is that I missed out on a lot of epicurean experiences because no one around me knew any better. One of those items was cabbage. Sure, we ate coleslaw during the summer and sauerkraut during the new year's festivities, but both were store bought and simply opened, possibly reheated, and plated. It wasn't until I started experiencing other ethnic cuisines during and after college that I realized I simply didn't know much about this cruciferous vegetable.

I had some basic knowledge of how to prepare green cabbage thanks to a Good Eats episode with Alton Brown, but other than that, it remained a mystery to me until one day when I had come over to cook dinner for my grandmother and found a head in her refrigerator after ransacking it for a side course for dinner. I've now made and tweaked this recipe enough times that I finally feel as if I can competently write about it. If all you can think of is the sulphuric scent that hangs in the air when cabbage is long-cooked, you'll be happy to know that this recipe has none of that foul stench.

Creamy Honey Mustard Cooked Cabbage

1 medium head green cabbage

2 medium (or 1 large) yellow or sweet onion

4 cloves garlic

1 box fresh chervil (you could also use tarragon)

Low-salt chicken stock/broth

Dijon mustard

Honey

"Lite" coconut milk

Rice wine vinegar

Salt and pepper to taste

Coconut milk might seem like a really odd item to add, but my grandmother is lactose intolerant. Substituting the thick, creamy coconut milk replaces the heavy cream I would have used AND has the benefit of lightening up the dish in terms of calories and fat. Use heavy cream if you'd like instead.

First, remove any dry or wilted outer leaves from the cabbage. Using a sharp knife, cut the cabbage into quarters, going through the core (the tough part at the end). Take each quarter and cut the tough core away from the leaves. Once you have cored all four, turn the quarter so that it sits longer from left to right. Using a sharp knife, thinly slice through all the cabbage leaf layers. As you finish each quarter, run the slivers through your fingers and into a waiting bowl. A medium cabbage will yield a LOT of slivers.

In a second bowl, cut off the root and non-root end of the onion and peel off the outer layer. Slice the onion in the middle from cut end to cut end. Lay the cut side down on the cutting board and use the knife to slice half-moons from one end of the onion to the other. Again, fan out the half-moons into a second bowl with your fingers. Repeat this for the rest of the onions.

In one small bowl, mince up four cloves of garlic. In a second small ball, take a small handful of fresh chervil and run the knife through it a couple of time to break it up. There is no need to pick the leaves from the stems as they are tender enough that it doesn't matter if some (or a lot for that matter) end up in the dish. Your initial mise en place is now done.

In a large high-sided saute pan (you could also use a stockpot or Dutch oven, too), add about two tablespoons of canola/grapeseed/vegetable oil and a tablespoon of butter. When the butter has melted and turned a brownish color (buerre noisette, anyone?), add the onions to the pot and stir to coat in the fat. Add a largish pinch of kosher salt and a couple grinds of fresh black pepper and begin to sweat the onions over medium low heat, until they soften up and turn translucent.

Add the garlic and stir until the garlic becomes fragrant, maybe 45 seconds. At this point, add about a cup of the chicken stock to the pan to deglaze it and get up all those wonderfully tasty brown bits off the bottom of the pan. Add in all of the cabbage and a small handful of the freshly chopped chervil. Using two spatulas or a pair of kitchen tongs, begin combining all of the ingredients carefully. Add another hit of salt and freshly cracked pepper, bring to a simmer, cover, and turn down the heat to low on the burner. At this point, it will simply take time to break down the tough cabbage. Probably about forty-five minutes to an hour. Fortunately, the only thing you have to do is every fifteen minutes or so, take off the lid, stir the contents, and return the cover.

When the cabbage is finally tender enough, you can simply re-season with salt and pepper to make sure it tastes good and serve as is, or take it a step further like I did tonight. At this point, I added two heaping spoonfuls of Dijon mustard, two spoonfuls of honey and half a can of coconut milk. I should address the coconut milk first before going any further in the recipe. When you buy coconut milk at the grocery store (and I got mine in the international aisle in Giant Eagle), likely it has sat a while. This is good because if you don't shake it up and carefully open the can, you will see one of two things: rich creamy coconut "cream" or thin, translucent coconut "water." Just like the days before milk homogenization, the contents will separate and the cream will float to the top. Using just the cream, add it to the pan, too. Also add about a tablespoon of rice wine vinegar.

The exact proportions of mustard, honey, and vinegar are a bit up to you. I was trying to go for a sweet and sour mustard taste. If you like it more sweet, use more honey. More tangy? Use more vinegar. You get the point. Stir this mixture into the cabbage and onions, re-season with salt and pepper if needed, and add another handful of chopped chervil. With fresh herbs, you want to cook with them in two stages, half at the beginning and half at the end. Now, with the lid removed, turn up the heat to medium and begin to reduce the sauce until it is a consistency that you like. Tonight, I decided to nestle quickly seared (but not fully cooked) pounded chicken breasts into the mustardy, creamy broth and braise for an additional five minutes while the sauce reduced around it.

When ready to serve, I plated up some of the Romano chive mashed potatoes I had also made to accompany the chicken and cabbage, placed a bed of the cabbage and onions on the plate, adorned it with one of the chicken breasts, and sauced the entire thing with a bit of the honey mustard cream. A gentle sprinkle of chervil over the top gave it some additional flavor and a colorful pop. Here was the finished dish:

I am usually harder on my own cooking than grandma is, but when she said how good this was, honestly, I had to agree with her. If you have lived with a fear of cooking cabbage or just needed something new to try, I'd suggest you give this recipe a go and discover a tasty treat that isn't particularly hard to make.

Blue Door: A Compendium of Visits

When I heard that the local diner, Golden Goose Restaurant and Bakery, was closing down for several weeks for remodeling, I was a little surprised. When I finally came to understand that the remodel was due in no small part to head baker Michael Bruno and his wife taking over the entire operation of the establishment, both bakery and restaurant, then it became a little more understandable. For several weeks, Michael would send out updates via Facebook about the progress of the remodel. When it finally came time to open back up for business, he announced that in the Golden Goose's ashes would rise a new restaurant and bakery, Blue Door Bakery and Cafe.

While I have covered Golden Goose during numerous visits, I couldn't help but think that once Michael controlled the restaurant's kitchen, he could apply the same level of exacting thought that he put into his baked goods. This definitely had me excited. In order to help him out, he brought in Valerie Miller and Tim Carson to help him run the kitchen while he focused on breads and pastries and managing front of house activities with his wife.

I should say upfront that by now, Michael, his wife, and many of the front of house staff know me by sight, so doing any kind of anonymous review would be laughable at best. At the same time, I neither asked for nor expected any kind of special treatment. I paid for all of my own food during each visit and probably the only "special" treatment I received was a visit from Michael at the end of each meal to ask how my experience had been.

The first item to note is that the transition from Golden Goose to Blue Door is still a work in progress. While the main entrance to the restaurant has finally been painted blue, the sign out front still says Golden Goose. Don't let that fool you. The restaurant located at the corners of State Road and Broad Street in Cuyahoga Falls has definitely begun a metamorphosis. Stepping into the freshly painted door, you come across the remodeled reception area:


This was the new pastry case. While the old one wasn't objectionable, I definitely like the open feeling to the new one.

To the right of the pastry case is the counter area and the new shelving behind it to hold the freshly baked loaves of bread coming out of the kitchen:


On my initial visit (the day after they reopened), I was presented with an moderately redesigned menu:





There were definite holdouts from the Golden Goose's menu, but Blue Door's menu had been tweaked to really emphasize quality, organic, locally procured or produced items to really amp up the dining experience. While I can't really give many style points on the design of the menu, it definitely delivered on choices and descriptions.

Since my first visit was during lunch, I decided to start out my meal with a bowl of the Blue Door Tomato Soup:


Made with San Marzano tomatoes and homemade vegetable stock, what surprised me when it came out of the kitchen was that it was served cold. Gazpacho! While I didn't mind it being served as gazpacho, the menu didn't describe it that way, so be prepared for the temperature difference should you decide to order it, too. The flavor was everything that summer should be: slight sweetness and acidity from the tomatoes, ever-so-slight pungency from the garlic, and a bright, cool flavor that made this a refreshing soup.

While there was a lot from which to choose during my first stop, I decided on going with the Homemade Chicken Salad Sandwich and a Dressed Organic Greens Salad:


Served on Blue Door's homemade challah, this was a total knock-out. I have loved Michael's breads since I first discovered them, but using it in this way really highlighted the flavors and textures of this fantastic eggy bread. The chicken salad was moist without being overdressed and the organic field greens had been dressed in an extra virgin olive oil and 30-year-old balsamic vinegar emulsion. The greens had also smartly been seasoned with salt. I have to admit, I was very impressed with the positive changes coming out of the kitchen.

So much so that I returned two days later to have breakfast with fellow food blogger Cedric and his lovely wife. After being seated at a booth, I was surprised and delighted to see that the restaurant had started using a local purveyor for their coffee, Angel Falls Coffee Company. Here's a shot of my steaming cup of decaf:


To pair with my wonderfully bitter cup 'o Joe, I decided to indulge in a calorie-laden breakfast and ordered the daily special, Challah French Toast with Grilled Peaches, Thick-Cut Nueske Bacon, and Real Maple Syrup:


Holy. Crap.

To say that this was good would be a gross understatement. At one point I did a French Toast Battle between Golden Goose and another Cuyahoga Falls eatery, Chowder House Cafe. Golden Goose definitely lost points for serving maple-flavored syrup. This was no longer an issue. The bacon, hand-cut by the kitchen staff, was crispy, chewy, smoky, and salty: a perfect pairing with the sweet maple syrup. In fact, I think I paired the maple syrup more with the bacon than with the French Toast.

And how was that French Toast? The peaches added a wonderful textural and sweet compliment to the more savory battered and griddled challah. In addition to the standard vanilla flavor in the batter, Blue Door had finally upped the ante and started incorporating Vietnamese cinnamon, boosting the heady flavors even further up the scale. Were this my last breakfast, I could die a happy man.

My third visit was again for breakfast, this time with friend and fellow food blogger Tami. Both of us ended up succumbing to the Omelette du Jour, her the vegetarian, and I the porcine:


This was a chorizo, spinach, roasted red pepper and Havarti omelette with a potato croquette. I've had Michael's two inch high quiche in the past and one of the qualities I've always admired about it was how well-balanced the flavors behaved together. Sweet, sour, salty, crunchy, creamy. In much the same vein, this particular omelette also delivered. The eggs were light and tender and the filling just enhanced the experience. The potato croquette, an item which Cedric had gotten during my last visit, proved to be a deep-fried bit of love on a plate. Crunchy on the outside, it was tender and creamy on the inside. Honestly, I've never come across a restaurant that serves potato croquettes before, so I'm glad that Blue Door is not only serving one, but a decent version to boot.

Along with our omelettes, Tami and I each had the option for a "toast" side. Not only was Blue Door making their own breads and croissants, but they also were making homemade English Muffins! Now THAT is a rarity indeed. I knew what my side would be:


Served with an individual jar of strawberry jam, this was a carb lover's dream. For someone who grew up eating Thomas' English Muffins, this was what an English muffin should be. While you certainly won't go wrong ordering up a slice of some of their other toasted breads for breakfast, try the homemade English muffin when you go. I'm looking forward to another one with my next breakfast.

On my next visit for lunch, I decided to go with one of the daily lunch specials, the Cuban Sandwich with Dressed Organic Greens:


All of the typical Cuban sandwich ingredients were present: pulled pork, ham, swiss cheese, stone-ground mustard, and pickle. One of the problems I had with the sandwich was actually the bread. It wasn't that the bread was bad, but the toasted challah it was served on just didn't seem to match up with what my sense memory said it should. When Michael stopped out to check on me, I mentioned this to him and he admitted that it was definitely better with the homemade sourdough bread, but unfortunately they had run out. Fair enough. The dressed organic salad greens were tasty as always though.

During my last visit (which was a week ago), I had intended on going for a late breakfast and getting something light, like a bowl of the oatmeal. Of course, once I saw the daily specials board, I knew my plans were going to change:


Now is the time of year for great tomatoes. I'll happily forgo hard, grainy, not-even-close-to-ripe tomatoes the rest of the year so that I can indulge when they are in season. I mean, why even bother with them if they aren't at their peak?

So, my bowl of oatmeal morphed into a Heirloom Tomato Croissant with Fresh Mozzarella and Basil Chiffonade:


Realizing that this was more of a knife and fork "sandwich" than a handheld one, I cut off a piece with all four ingredients and took a bite. Waves of pleasure rolled over me as I savored each chew. The tomatoes were sweet, sour, salty, and tender. The mozzarella was creamy and rich. The toasted croissant was crisp and buttery. The basil added a bright herbaceous flavor that unified the entire sensation. This was incredible.

Here was a shot of the reverse side of the croissant:


If you are thinking to yourself, gentle reader, that the croissant pictured above looks incredibly flaky, well, you'd be absolutely right.

Along with my sandwich, I also received a Prosciutto and Cantaloupe Salad:


While pairing cantaloupe and prosciutto isn't anything groundbreaking, it's nice to be reminded now and again why they work so well together. The cantaloupe must be absolutely ripe in order for the sweetness to balance the saltiness from the prosciutto. In today's case, the pairing was perfectly executed.

I also wanted to mention the overall service I have received since the restaurant transitioned to its new name. Blue Door has been fairly busy every time I've gone (with the exception of the last visit), so if you are looking for a thirty minute lunch, I'd suggest trying it out when you have more time. Also, note that there have often been daily specials that also appear in a "regular" form on the printed menu. French Toast is a great example. The day that I ordered the French Toast with the grilled peaches, that was the daily special. There was also a regular French Toast already on the menu. Just make sure your server understands which one you actually want in order to avoid confusion.

These few minor quibbles aside, I think what Michael and his wife have done to transform the Golden Goose into the Blue Door is nothing short of remarkable. The food coming out of the kitchen is being held to the same standard that the breads and pastries have long achieved. The food is not inexpensive, but at roughly $10 for breakfast or lunch per person and for the quality you receive, I think it is a great value. If you've been hesitant to try out the restaurant or just haven't been back for a while, now is the time to take action.

And if you go on a day where they have the heirloom tomato croissant, get it. You won't be disappointed.

Filing My TPS Report at The Office Bistro

I find it interesting that after writing on this blog for the last two and a half years (has it been that long already?), I am in the unique position now of being solicited by restaurant owners, chefs, or general managers who actually want me to come to their establishment and do a review. I have to laugh a little bit at this because had I ever thought this would have been even a remote possibility when I started doing restaurant reviews, I'm sure my ego would've swelled to fill the room. I don't know that I think of myself as famous in any way (I eat my pasta one forkful at a time after all), but acknowledging that I now seem to have a certain level of notoriety is an entertaining notion to me.

Several weeks ago, Steve Turner from The Office Bistro and Lounge (Facebook fan page here) contacted me via email and asked if I would review his restaurant. Located at 778 North Main Street in Akron, Ohio, I had driven by The Bistro hundreds, if not thousands, of times since I moved back to Akron in 2004. While the notion of stopping there for a meal had crossed my mind once or twice, I simply had not done it yet. I replied to Steve that I would be happy to review the restaurant, but I made it clear that I would come unannounced and it could be weeks or months before I did so. He joking replied that he would prefer to know exactly when I planned to arrive so he could send out a carefully selected and prepared (and paid for) meal. Having set his expectations, I waited several weeks before giving serious thought to stopping by.

This past Monday night, as I was leaving from work, I decided to stop in for dinner. Parking was available on Main Street as well as in a small lot behind the building. Here was a shot of the front of the restaurant:


There were several doors that appeared to be associated with The Office; only the one on the far right actually opened. As I entered from the street, I found myself in the lounge area. To get to the restaurant, I simply walked to the back of the lounge and waited at the entrance to the restaurant portion of the building (there was a sign asking customers to wait to be seated). Being a Monday night, I was surprised to find the restaurant pretty full, although this was tempered with the fact that the restaurant itself was fairly small to begin with. After being seated, my server left me with the menu to peruse:







As you can see from the pictures, the menu was fairly diverse, drawing from a number of influences, including Cajun/Creole, Italian, Greek, and American. While I pondered what to order, my server returned to tell me that the soups of the day were a hot curried carrot and a chilled cucumber avocado. Thinking that a cup of soup might just be a perfect way to start my meal, I went with a cup of the curried carrot:


One bite and I could tell that the soup had been finished with heavy cream because of the way it coated my tongue. The flavor of the soup was tasty, but the two predominant flavors, carrots and curry, were a bit muted. The only way I was sure that it actually was a carrot soup was the occasional piece of cooked carrot easily dissolved on my tongue and the unfortunate presence of rather tough, fibrous shards of carrot that remained after the soup was pureed:


Granted, some diners might not be annoyed with these fibrous bits, but to me it was the same sensation as getting a hair in you mouth, irritating and requiring immediate removal. I got about halfway through my soup before becoming annoyed enough at having to pick out the fibers from every spoonful.

A few minutes after giving up on my soup, my entree arrived, followed shortly after with a basket containing biscuits and a small ramekin of butter:


My server actually called these "rolls," but they were more biscuit-like. Actually, they were somewhere between a biscuit and a cake in terms of texture. The butter was nicely softened and spread easily and for the most part the biscuits were a bit unusual in that they were infused with a black pepper spiciness, but they also ran a touch to the dry side, too. It certainly wasn't a bad biscuit, just not a stellar one. I'm guessing fresh out of the oven, these would be pretty tasty.

For my entree, I decided to order the Seared Scallops in Sweet Tobasco Blanc with Mushroom, Asparagus, and Prosciutto Risotto:


As I was reading today's news on my smartphone, I saw my server approaching my table with something in her hand out of the corner of my eye. As I turned to look at her fully, I realized that she was leaving a trail of sauce drips in her wake. Even though she was only carrying one plate, it was tilted in such a way that the corner that was being gripped with her thumb was slightly lower than the rest of the plate and the sauce was making its journey to floor and table alike. While her thumb swimming in the sauce from my entree was my first concern, I quickly realized that it wouldn't be my only one.

Here was a close-up of the seared scallops, sauced with a sweet tobasco blanc:


While the menu didn't specifically say buerre blanc, by using the word blanc, I assumed that was what the sauce was supposed to be. And classically, buerre blanc is often served with seafood because the rich, buttery sauce plays well off the delicate flavor of the seafood. Done right, it is luxurious, sinful, and quite delicious. Consistency-wise, it should be thinner than a sauce hollandaise, but much thicker than say, a jus or pan drippings. Unfortunately, tonight's sauce was thin and watery and lacked substantial body. The scallops themselves were seasoned simply with salt and pepper and while cooked perfectly with a lovely translucent interior, the aggressive salting resulted in them losing their inherent sweetness.

Paired with the scallops was a mushroom, asparagus, and prosciutto risotto:


Had this been described as a cheesy rice casserole with mushroom, asparagus, and ham, this dish would have succeeded marvelously. As a risotto, however, this side dish fell into the Olive Garden interpretation of what a proper risotto should be. The rice traditionally used in risotto, the short-grained Arborio, releases starch as it is cooked and stirred, naturally thickening the dish. At the very end of the process and right before service, a small amount (key word: small) of cheese can be added to not only heighten the umami intensity of the dish, but a touch of creaminess as well. Too much cheese and you end up with a stiff mound of rice sitting on the plate, not a softly cascading and still slightly liquid pile of creamy rice ready to tantalize your palate.

That being said, the mushrooms and asparagus were cooked well and added a nice texture and flavor to the side dish, but I do take issue with the prosciutto. Based on how thickly cut the prosciutto was and its flavor and texture, it more closely resembled traditional American ham and not so much the Italian delicacy of prosciutto. While the astute among you might point out that both American ham and prosciutto are cured pork products, I will defend my position by saying that prosciutto is usually shaved impossibly thin and is marbled with lovely packets of sweet, white fat. As such, it has a very delicate taste to it. Tonight's prosciutto, along with its thicker cut than normal, was missing those blobs of cured fat. Like I said, as a cheesy rice casserole with mushrooms, asparagus, and ham, this would be a satisfying dish that lived up to its description on the menu. As an Italian risotto with mushrooms, asparagus, and prosciutto ... not so much.

I finished most of my entree and when my server checked in to see if I would like dessert, I politely declined and asked for the check. My meal tonight, while not a wallet-buster, was also no slouch at $26 including tax. The scallop and risotto entree itself was essentially $22. I realize that there are those who would complain that $22 is too much for something you could get at Red Lobster for $12, but I am the first one to acknowledge that good raw ingredients cost money and I'm willing to pay $22 when I know I can get better ingredients prepared correctly. While the scallops themselves were cooked perfectly, there were quite a few other execution problems with the dish that bothered me. Were I to select from the menu again, I probably wouldn't repeat this one. Other than the thumb in the sauce incident, service was quick and polite.

In the end, would I recommend The Office Bistro and Lounge based on this one visit? Yes, but barely. Nothing tasted bad to the point I would have sent it back to the kitchen to fix it, but there were some obvious execution errors in both the soup and the entree. And while The Office is not the most expensive menu in Akron, it is also by no means inexpensive either. That being said, there was a kernel of understanding in what flavors worked well together and that has me curious to return for another visit.

In the end, I'd be an idiot to not think that Mr. Turner would have preferred a glowing review of my experience at his restaurant. And all things being equal, I would have loved to give it to him. This is exactly the kind of establishment that I love to find and promote to hungry Akronites and Clevelanders looking for a tasty meal that would prefer avoiding national chains. Unfortunately, as the saying goes, it is what it is; those were the cards I was dealt. Now the question becomes, is publicity, even less than ideal publicity, better than none at all?