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OK, fellow calamari lovers, I’ve got a review of the squid salad at Pasta Brioni in Scottsdale nearly ready to go–as soon as my loser sister e-mails me the photos that I texted her. Yes, I lack a Blackberry. Yes, I am the true loser.
Also, an update. I stopped by Catch 22 again twice since I live in the neighborhood. The first time I met a friend for a Bronco’s game (he’s a fanatic–a lucky fanatic, eh?), and the fried calamari was even better than previously, though the portion was mysteriously smaller. Then tonight, I went with a special guest and was embarrassed by my recommendation. The portion was 1/3 the size of my original serving (and I had the photos to prove it), and the squid decidedly fishier!
The guest, a self-proclaimed calamari lover, said he’d give the dish 1.5 out of 4 squids.
But this points to an important and ongoing factor regarding squid, especially here in AZ: the quality of calamari is going to vary according to when the shipment arrived, when it was thawed, and who the cook on duty may be–especially in a neighborhood joint that doesn’t move a school of squid every day.
Sadly, we calamari addicts can’t count on the same consistency that a plate of fries might offer. Luck will also play her role.
In defense of the pub’s preparation, I still would have allotted it 2 squids. And the guy who dissed it and regaled us with of tales of eating squid fresh off the fishing boats in Spain, said he thought the marinara side sauce could use some horseradish. Say WHAT?
Squid Heresy
Obviously this guest was unfamiliar with the classic Italian presentation of calamari and thought the marinara was some kind of slumbering cocktail sauce–a debatable match for squid regardless, and a topic for another day. However, I was motivated to find a fabulous Spanish recipe for calamari and present this glory, glory hallelujah version: “El Farol Fried Calamari” by Chef James Campbell Caruso.
This recipe features both a Lemon-Caper Aioli and a Romesco Sauce. I can’t wait to make it–mainly because it doesn’t include any horseradish whatsoever.
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Jaded Squid
Finally, a quick mention of the fiery calamari at acclaimed Sanctuary Resort’s Jade Bar/Elements restaurant in Paradise Valley. I’d been anticipating this experience for a year, ever since a major foodie had claimed it was the best in the Valley. It took me a while to get over there with squid-friendly folks, however, since PV isn’t exactly my ‘hood.
But what a yawn this Jade Bar calamari version turned out to be. I have nothing to say about it except, YAWN.
My dining companions agreed. We didn’t even finish it. Asian accents, perfectly OK textuj,….. k;ljdsk , whoops, sorry I fell asleep on my keyboard. I’ve had these flavors before a hundred times, nothing exciting, and we asked others at the bar who agreed.
This clamari ranks only 2.5 squids (Squidzzzzzzzz) for letting me down. One expects more from Iron Chef-worthy Beau MacMillan’s staff. I don’t care if it’s a serviceable squid, the time has come to revisit the dang recipe and deliver a dazzler.
Review Puzzler
Yet, I found this older review of Jade Bar’s sqid lullaby on the Arizona Republic’s website:
“The grazing began with the fiery calamari ($13) and it made for a good first impression. Prepared just as it should be, this squid has just a whisper of crispy breading and is buttery soft to the tooth. The miso scallion vinaigrette served alongside for dipping has a delightful sweet-and-sour taste. We enjoyed this appetizer so much that we ended our evening with a second order.”
Oh, was the dip “delightful”? Thanks for the insight. I can’t believe this reviewer wasted valuable stomach space with a second order when she had Beau’s staff in the kitchen making other amazing foodstuffs. Good God! But maybe she was a cala-starty.
I must remain tolerant. I must remain calm. I’m super-cala-fragilistic irritated, however. I got a tip tonight that Fleming’s in North Scottsdale will restore my faith.
And the search for the world’s best calamari continues … now in Phoenix.
Rating: 2 tentacles out of 4 squids (Scary Calamari: Cala-scari)
Ironic squid napkin
Posted by Kimberly Hundley, Gal-Amari
Hey, you’re welcome to disagree, but this was the worst calamari I’ve had in living memory–and I hadn’t eaten all day. I found myself in the neighborhood of the much ballyhooed new Tempe Marketplace and noticed a seafood establishment, which I fervently hoped wasn’t a chain: King’s Fish House.
Tums anyone?
Turns out it is a California-based chain with single locations in both Nevada and Arizona. The place smelled like yummy, freshly boiled seafood when I walked in, and the people were friendly.
But I wasn’t here for calculated warm ambiance, or the oysters, sushi or salmon–just the calamari--which prompted me to revamp my 4 squid rating. I needed to go lower than 1 squid. Much lower. I needed to touch bottom. And not in a good way.
Attack of the Tentacles
At $10.95, King’s Fried Calamari rates two tentacles, assuming each of my usual four squids is in good health and sporting two tentacles apiece (and eight feet). God help me if I find the restaurant with one tentacle–and you know it’s out there.
The greasy, caked flour breading reminded me of cheap onion rings. At the lightest touch, the breading fell right off the rings–or maybe it was fleeing in disgust. This fishy calamari is fashioned from a larger, tougher squid than one usually encounters, with a leathery mouth feel. Braving the grease for the greater good, I slid two of my long yet firm fingers through a single ring to confirm its girth–a sensation akin to wedding the Krakken.
The Monkey’s Paws
The serving includes a goodly portion of feet and tentacles, resembling fried chicken’s feet or shrunken monkey paws. Perhaps you remember the many TV and radio horror shows about “The Monkey’s Paw,” spawned by W. W. Jacobs short story of the same name.
The following excerpt from Jacobs’ classic may ring some bells. I know I harbored three wishes (my money back, revenge, antacid):
“To look at,” said the Sargent-Major, fumbling in his pocket, “it’s just an ordinary little paw, dried to a mummy… It had a spell put on it by an old Fakir–a very holy man. He wanted to show that fate ruled people’s lives, and that those who interfered with it did so to their sorrow. He put a spell on it so that three separate men could each have three wishes from it.”
I would treat you to a terrifying close-up image of King’s clumpy squid claws, but my camera mysteriously died after taking only one photo of the calamari plate. It’s as though its little battery soul shriveled up like an ancient monkey’s paw and died.
Recipe for Disaster
The server told me the squiddles here are tossed with Worcester and hot sauces (I got the impression this disservice is provided prior to its arrival at the restaurant), then thrown in white flour and fried in the kitchen–and fried and fried and fried.
The greasy plate comes with an uninspired tartar sauce, and a ketchup-based cocktail sauce that is hotter but lighter than the usual suspects. I actually liked the cocktail sauce; in fact I ate it with a spoon since I was so hungry and had nothing else edible to ingest.
Fair Enough
In all fairness, my server, an ASU student, said she loves the calamari. Those of us older than 21 know that fried whatever ain’t what it used to be in college. And you watch out girl, those calories and all their relatives will declare eminent domain over your thighs the minute you turn 23.
You may think I am finished trashing this repugnant dish, but I am not. Oh no. Here’s why:
- I was out a precious $11 and left unfed.
- My fingers were greasy and smelled like a dead whale.
- I had to nourish myself with cocktail sauce.
- My fresh-faced server failed to inquire as to why my mound of squid was near untouched.
- The fishy aftertaste polluted my overpriced chardonnay, so that drinking my sorrows became a literal reality.
Are You Squidding Me?
The final, utter insult, came in the form of a cocktail napkin. I don’t know where King’s buys these things, but all of the cocktail napkins feature happy smiling squids telling jokes. (See below). Ironic, don’t you think?
Riddle me this: Why do you serve calamari?
Ya wanna know what lies at the bottom of the ocean and shakes? A poor squid worrying it will end up on a plate at King’s.
Have a place you want me to check out?! Leave it in comments.
And for those of you who can’t figure out the answer to the actual squid riddle on the napkin, click on the image. The answer is on the bottom–like the Titanic.
King’s Fish House, Tempe Marketplace, Arizona and other locations Read the rest of this entry »
And the search for the world’s best calamari continues … now in Phoenix.
Elephant Bar Restaurant, Scottsdale, Phoenix, Peoria, Chandler, Arizona and other locations
Rating: 2.75 out of 4 squids (Squid Worthy)
Posted by Kimberly Hundley, Gal-Amari
Two people in one week recommended the Elephant Bar (EB) calamari. EB is a chain, and since I’m not a fan of the homogenization of America, I limit my visits–despite their killer mojito with a real sugarcane swizzle stick.
At happy hour, the calamari's price sinks to $5.50.
Elephant Bar flags its calamari as a “signature item,” and describes it as “Quick-Fried Soy-Ginger Calamari: tender calamari strips with oriental dipping sauce; finished with marinated vegetables and toasted sesame seeds.”
No feet or tentacles to scare off the natives here. Each piece is a long tender strip of calamari “steak,” rolled in ultra-light breading (maybe Panko with a touch of spice), and flash fried to minimize oiliness. I assume the “soy-ginger” description refers to the light sprinkling of sprouts, carrots and zucchini slivers, which lends the strips a gingery zing and arguably six drops of soy sauce.
The breading hugs the squid like a teenager in love. There’s no separating them. (Take a closer look below.) If you like a crunch to your fried calamari, you’re out of luck. The effect is more like biting into a french fry–if the potato in question were a cephalopod.
Calamari wearing a sweater-tight coat
I don’t associate mayonnaise with “oriental” anything. But the side here is a big ol’ cup of mayo-based dipping sauce. It’s pink–I’m guessing due to a red-pepper infusion–and packs a little horseradish kick. A little of this went a long way for me. Stick with a squirt of lemon and savor the hints of ginger.
EB’s calamari strips are tasty if a little homogenized for those who really like to get squiddy; even the texture gets monotonous quickly. The server couldn’t give me too many details about the recipe: the calamari steaks arrive frozen, and the crumb breading is premixed, although the elements are combined and cooked onsite. At the $7.50, EB is squid worthy. Though I don’t think I’d order it again unless it were happy hour, when the price sinks to $5.50!
Have an opinion? Post it!
Posted by Kimberly Hundley, Squid Gal
Do you remember last year’s news about the first-ever colossal squid caught alive? The specimen was frozen and brought to New Zealand for scientific study. Last night, the Discovery Channel’s long-awaited documentary about the unprecedented catch/dissection aired. I was curious whether this squid would look at all tasty, despite tiger-like teeth rotating on the tentacles.
The short answer is no. The long answer is I indeed craved calamari when the scientists first sliced a few snowy pieces from the mantle. But the process got nasty quickly. Turns out nothing goes bad faster than an unfrozen calamari. Brave the photos if you dare: Squid in a Tub. It may be a couple days before I can dig in again.
I also resented the lead scientist moaning about how the squid was a girl instead of a boy. “I really wanted a boy,” he whined discovering a massive egg sack. Earlier, he’d interpreted a weird-shaped tentacle as a squid penis, and nearly cried with joy. Little is known of the wily male squid, he explained.
Hatin’ on the She-Squid
This morning, I read an update written last week for the National Geographic News, with this summary: “…the largest squid ever caught was ‘a giant, gelatinous blob,’ sluggish and highly vulnerable to predators, a squid expert who dissected the specimen said last week.”
The article also said the she-squid was “an egg-producing machine, which—like most squid—would probably have given birth once before dying, said Steve O’Shea of New Zealand’s Auckland University of Technology”
Is there no awe and respect for this poor blob that was literally carrying on her species? Jeesh. I don’t think any of the scientists were women, actually.
