I've said it before and I'll say it again: Birmingham is an amazing food town that gets little or no credence from the rest of the country. I dutifully defend it's culinary prowess to anyone who will listen. Also, I'm always looking for more ammunition, just in case I run accross another naysayer.
The wife's birthday was approaching and it fell over a weekend. I got off of work and we had loose plans to travel somewhere to have a really nice dinner. Atlanta is a fun getaway. Also, Chattanooga or Pensacola. Any of which would have been fine choices. Great towns all. Filled with good people and stuff to do.
But, after mulling it over, we decided to stay home and hit some unhit spots. I got recomendations from friends and added them to my existing "to eat" list. I wanted to keep it fairly close to Birmingham. So, some suggestions further out of town, while duly noted, were put on hold.
I got off work Friday and took a shower. It was time to begin.
Ollie Irene is in Mountain Brook where the old, well, the second Browdy's location used to be. It was freezing and the wind was way up. Ollie Irene was warm and they serve Pabst. Already, two thumbs up.
We were greeted cheerily and seated immediately. They serve dinner at 5:30. We got there at six. There was a wait by 6:15. Take note.
We started with fried boudin atop a house made stone ground mustard and some bread and butter pickles. Usually, I detest bread and butter pickles. Not these. These were outta sight. The boudin was cooked perfectly and the mustard was spot on. The thought of a whole basket of these things served like hushpuppies was too much for me to bear. Excellent, excellent pig. You beautiful creature.
So, naturally, we ordered champagne to celebrate the high five that was our appetizer. Duh.
Someone bought us a second round of beers. Thanks, whoever you were. We never caught the name.
Next, Liz got the mussels and I got the rillette. The mussels were good and had a nice broth. But, mussels don't really jazz me, so, I don't have much more to offer on them than "they were good." Rillette, on the other hand, jazzes the living daylights out of me. And, to find that this particular rillette was studded with green olives, thyme and garlic, had me grinning like an idiot. Also, as a bonus, I was going to get some more of that good-assed mustard and a bit of celeri remulade. The rillette was creamy, without being runny. It had just enough body to stand on its own, yet spread nicely on the crostini. Pig pate supreme. Hell, I even ate some more of those pickles.
After that, I had a bowl of the best French Onion Soup I've ever had. Hands down. No contest. All other bowls of French Onion will now be judged by this bowl of soup. And will subsequently fail to live up to the expectations this bowl has set forth. I'm not fucking joking.
Listen. I'm a soup guy. It's one of my things. Both as a diner and as a cook. I have a damn good sense for soups and stews. This soup was fucking mind-melting. It was rich and the onions were cooked exactly how they are supposed to be cooked and the cheese was crusted brilliantly and it gave me a backrub and fixed the brakes on my car for free. I cannot say one bad word about it at all. Nor would I. If I only had the soup to go on, It would have been enough to warrant a return. I could have eaten three servings. I want to eat it right now.
Did I mention that the soup was fantastic? I will go there just to eat the soup, alone, at the bar huddled up with a tallboy. I will repeat this process much sooner than later.
Liz had the cheese course. I didn't have any of that. I moved straight to dessert. Which, happened to be a wonderful carrot cake roulade with caramel. Carrot cake can often times be way too dense and/or gummy. I like it alright. Which is why I was surprised to find myself ordering it. You know? This place is batting a thousand so far. Why end it with a dish I only like so-so?
I'm laying the blame squarely on champagne. I don't really drink it at all anymore as it tends to put me right out. So, the lapse in judgement is resting solely on the shoulders of the bottle in front of me.
Imagine my delight to find that this carrot cake was not only light, but, moist without gumming up. And the caramel accompanying it made it that much more of a treat. It wasn't cloyingly sweet, either. It was the perfect way to cap off the evening.
Well, the perfect way to cap off the evening would have been to imbibe in some after dinner B&B's. So we did. And, speaking of alcohol, you can buy a round of beers for the whole kitchen for $15. Do that shit. They're earning 'em.
I had three courses, plus dessert. I did not feel heavy or coma'd out when I left. I felt warm. I felt sated. I felt good.
There are excellent people doing amazing things with food in this town. Ollie Irene is filled with such people and food.
Go eat there.
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