Tuesday, August 17, 2010

What is it about "I love you" that gives people the wrong idea?

Can't we just be very passionate friends?

People always mistake my passion for something other or else. In fact, thrice lately people have misinterpreted my affections for something greater than they were meant to express. For the record, I love Sanctuaria. But please don't take that the wrong way. I don't need more confusion this week. But I digress; this is megfoodblog.

Here’s the story. My friend took me to this place I thought would be "meh" at best and more likely was the type of place where big buzzooomed girls wear cheap sateen boustiers and red red lips. It's called "Sanctuaria Wild Tapas," after all. It kinda looks like that inside. Don't get me wrong - I dig black and I appreciate that pleather wipes down nicely, especially in a restaurant - but it was a little "meh" mixed with "big red black buzzoom." I digress for a second time.


This. Place. Is. The. Only. Place. In. Town. To. Have. A. Cocktail.

Pour your G&Ts and your Cosmos and even your pathetic STL-version of a Sauzerac down the drain and let the bartender at Sanctuaria mix you an herb-infused, tincture-enhanced, frosty glass of something special. I don't know what's on the menu and I don't care. I'm sure they are nice. Better than whatever was written for the masses is if you sit at the bar and let the bartender invent something directly for your liking.

He Loves Me Not:
Hibiscus- and lavender-infused gin cocktail with rose petals floating on top.


Gypsy Punk (don’t ask how this was named):
Lavender- and lemon verbena-infused cocktail probably with gin, though it might be vodka, and with fresh lavender floating on top.

New York Sour:
Red-wine infused whiskey (I think) and lemon cocktail.

Other fantastic cocktails:

Now for the misapplied affection - I took my mother there, knowing she'd enjoy the experience of having a cocktail infused solely for her drinking pleasure. She mistook my passion to be directed at the bartender rather than the lavender tincture. That was confusing! I quickly disabused her of that notion. What's wrong with a modern woman embracing an appreciation for the finer things in life? I'm expressive! I call it healthy. I digress yet still again.

Beyond the cocktails, there are some worthwhile snacks. Sanctuaria is a tapas restaurant. I love the idea of small plates, but I'm not a fan of standard tapas. In fact, I find the food at Modesto and Barcelona to be facile and uninspired, not to mention needlessly fatty, off the top of my head. I would not classify Sanctuaria's tapas in that same way, though I do think some of the dishes lack merit. Three in particular are worth eating.

First, the tostones. On the menu they sound like plantain chips (read: "meh"). They are anything but, however; although if you are a smoker or prone to heavy salting, you might miss their exquisite subtlety. They look like peanut butter cookies but are plantains mashed and baked into little patties, then you spread on this sort of black bean mash, then the best part is the chimichurri sauce which they make with cilantro and parsley and some canola oil and some other herbies from the back garden. It is the earthiness of the beans topping the almost-fruitiness (though not sweetness) of the plantain patty, combined with what can only be described as the fresh greenness of the sauce that makes them so amazing. Increasingly I find I can only palate simple and fresh flavors. I get that heavily seasoned foods can be the product of serious gourmet preparation, but I'm more of the IwanttoknowwhatI'meating kind of girl, meaning I like flavors I can recognize. Truly delicious. Now I'm really digressing.

Second, the empanadas. Now these border on your average empanada - fried pastry. Good, yes, but we've had that before. The difference here is that they are filled with chihuahua cheese and guava, which tastes a little like raspberry and ricotta. It is accompanied by an "amarillo sauce," the ingredients of which I cannot recognize but which is very very tasty. These are not vegan; nor are they healthy. They lack the subtlety of the tostones so you'll have to disregard my prior paragraph as I now type that even though I don't know what I'm ingesting, these are good.

Third - this is a strange dish - plantain rounds atop a bed of melted mozzarella with a guava jelly. Just like it sounds, though the guava this time tastes a little strawberry. I'm new to guava, so I'm not sure what it's supposed to taste like. Strange, I reiterate, but delicious.

Beyond those, the salads were disappointing and the cornbread was the epitome of "meh." That's OK though, because as long as you're not trying to cover your 5 food groups and can stomach a meal subsisting of cheese and plantains, this is really more than sufficient.

Now when I went, I wore jeans once and pants another time and did not feel like the sore JCrewThumb sticking out on the BlackBoustier hand, so I’d say do your thing, whatever that is. But I would suggest prefacing your passionate exhortations - which you will no doubt have - to your mother or your grandmother or whoever worries about these things with a clear message that you’re really just in it for the drinks and while you may bring her to Sanctuaria to check it out, you won’t be bringing anything (read: anyone) home to meet her for the checking out, if that makes sense. No offense at all to bartender,of course, who I'm sure is a lovely person and who most certainly, truly, is an artist in his own right.

I just want to make clear that when I say, "I love you," I'm referring to the booze.