dining reviews food + Drink Truck Patch Farm in Carrol County; the f lour comes from Lancaster, Pennsylvania; the eggs from By Rebecca Messner Fallston. n the sketch comedy show This, again, is Portlandia, there is a skit in more about earnestwhich the people of Portland, ness—the quality Oregon, are made fun of (as they ing red ients here are in every episode) for acting really do make the like they live in the 1890s. Men difference between greasy diner and grow out their muttonchops and authentic, delicious butcher their own meat; people food. Consider the fervently support local businesses omelet, cooked to and buy locally grown produce; p e r fe c t ion w it h everything that can be is pickled. fluffy, golden eggs, And while Jack Neill, 23, and Zach Schoettler, 22, do make razor sharp cheddar, their own sausages and pickle bright green spinach, their own vegetables (and Jack and curried sausage. has a nice beard), they treat Jack American beauty: Jack and Zach's sausages are Brea k fast sa ndwiches, which Neill & Zach Food, their breakfast-and- handcrafted weekly in unique flavors. recommends on an English muffin (because lunch joint, with nothing but earnestness. they look nicest that way), are artfully crafted Located in the tiny basement of the Women’s and ample. Jack and Zach are equal opportuIndustrial Exchange building (most recently vacated by Sofi’s Crepes), the U-shaped counter nity hashbrownists—serving a colorful array of has just twelve stools. The one-page menu is white and sweet potatoes beside most breakfast simple—breakfast on top, lunch on the bottom— entrees. The duo also makes their own granola— but exhaustively researched. A chalkboard above a sweet, playful mixture of oats, coconut, cranthe cash register details which ingredients come berries, chocolate chips, and Rice Krispies. from where: Pork for the sausages comes from Neill and Schoettler pride themselves on the
Jack & Zach Food
photos by Sarah Thrower
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Not about the beer: Brew is but one pleasing element of Heavy Seas Alehouse.
Heavy Seas Alehouse By Martha Thomas
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amed for the predominant line of Clipper City beers, Heavy Seas Alehouse is not necessarily about the brew. In fact, beer is but one appealing element of the place, which has slipped seamlessly into the framework of its Thai and Mexican predecessors. The rough
barn board walls and deep booths, the long bar and communal tables in the repurposed tack factory seem designed for merry groupings: some sampling shot glass-portioned flights of Heavy Seas presented on wooden paddles, others sipping rum from brandy glasses. In fact, the Next Big Thing at the bar is not the craft brews. The alehouse has a nicely edited selection of rums by the glass, varieties of the sugar-distilled concoction described on the menu with words like spicy, nutty, vanilla, molasses, and oak. The Dominican Republic Atlantico, for example, is somewhere between a sweet brandy and a peaty whisky—complex and meant for sipping. But the real attraction here is Matt Seeber, the Tom Colicchio protégée, who ran the celebrity chef’s Craftsteak in Las Vegas. Seeber’s name doesn’t appear on the website or the menu, but his honed abilities are certainly in evidence, from the oyster stew with its tangy, not-tooheavy broth, fresh chives, and large fleshy oysters to the delectable desserts. Just as the non-beer set shouldn’t be deterred by the alehouse motif and the somewhat dorky pirate logo, those who eschew meat mustn’t let Seeber’s steakhouse background steer them away. The menu leans toward seafood, with a generously stocked raw bar featuring a daily selection
sausage—lightly browned with a crispy shell, its spice is intricate, not overpowering. Neill and Schoettler craft new batches weekly in flavors like red wine fennel, beer apple, and “Baltimore,” which combines Old Bay and Natty Boh. Lunch is a likewise simple affair, and after you’ve sampled all the sausages, it’s worth trying a homemade veggie patty. It’s refreshing to see veggie patties where individual ingredients are recognizable, not mashed to a pulp—sweet potatoes, onion, and broccoli are yellowed by a generous addition of curry, served on a toasted brioche bun with sweet, pickled onions. Lunch dishes are elevated by the addition of housemade potato chips—paper thin, with an appetizing sheen of grease. You can break them with your tongue on the roof of your mouth. The space feels collected, the way a recent college grad would decorate his first apartment— old prints that were either saved from the mildew of grandpa’s basement or bought for cheap at a yard sale. A faded American flag is mounted on the wall below a fencing mask and two crossed foils. There is a guitar hanging above the counter and an ornate, hand-drawn sign on one bare wall that reads “WANTED: bookshelf or piano.” Jack plays the banjo and Zach plays the guitar, but both want to learn to play the piano. If anyone has one they’re trying to get rid of, they’re encouraged to let the duo know. (Breakfast and lunch Mon–Fri, brunch Sun. 333 N. Charles St.; www.jackandzachfood.com) of oysters. The smoked mussel salad is not to be missed—the smoke is just right, deep but not overwhelming, and the mussels are pretty much unadorned, save for a light dressing of lemon mayo with celery and red onion. Likewise, a lobster salad is simple: chunks of meat (just shy of a one-pounder), tossed with a discreet lime-ginger vinaigrette, with shiny strands of Japanese seaweed on the side. Of course there’s red meat here: the twentyfour-hour beef shortrib, glazed in Peg Leg beer, slides effortlessy from the bone, and the menu includes a grilled hangar steak and the Heavy Seas burger. But Seeber is egalitarian, including a vegetarian plate with root vegetables and Brussels sprouts, a portobello sandwich, and some nice side dishes (although the best of these, faro risotto, is laced with pork confit and decorated with bits of fresh tarragon, fennel, and parsley). The menu is simple and, although not extensive, offers possibilities for mixing and matching—raw bar and salad, appetizers and sides, a sandwich, or the whole shebang. And of course, there’s dessert, ginger cake made with stout, Earl Grey crème brulée, and the Pimlico pie, whole pecans embedded in sweet brown sugar and rich chocolate filling. Bottom line, if you go to Heavy Seas for the beer, you’ll return for much more. (Lunch and dinner daily. 1300 Bank St.; 410-522-0850; www. heavyseasalehouse.com) Urbanite #95 may 2012 59