Nurturing my inner... all the way from UK

Yesterday while hanging out, one of my friends mentioned a place she wanted to try.  She said, it's called Pure Pasty, in Vienna, Va.  And it had traditional British pasties.  (Not pastRies.)  I said, "Now wait a minute.  I went there last September."  I thought for sure I had blogged about it.  But I couldn't find my posting.  (I keep a detailed spreadsheet, so I can do easy searches.  Right, NERD.)  Try as I might, I can't figure out how I missed writing this one out for you.  Oh well, better late than never.

The shop took a little effort to find.  There are these service roads in Vienna that hide clusters of quaint little storefronts in every nook.

It's kind of in a side alley.

You actually step down to enter the shop.  It's tiny, but it's a specialty store.  I like when there is a focus to do a few things really well instead of many things just average.  A large menu doesn't always equate to an amazing experience.

 

Jars and cans of imported goods from the
United Kingdom.

Sidle up to the glass container and see all the lovely trays of fresh out of the oven baked goods.  Okay, so I didn't know what half of them were, but I'm adventurous.  And I studied the menu.  If you're going to try something new, it's best to do some research ahead of time and prepare yourself.

Drinks to the left. I went in the early afternoon
so they were sold out of some types.
A popular place.

So what is a pasty?  It is a meat and veggie stuffed hand pie with a flaky crust.  The crust is traditional and had a historical purpose.  (Which I always share with you to make us all seem smarter around the water cooler at work.)  It was created many years ago as food for miners who had toxic chemicals on their hands.  So they would eat the pie up to the sturdy crust and then safely discard that.  (Right, no way we'd be throwing away that delicious crust today!  Hopefully most of us aren't miners or handling toxins every day while having lunch.  If you do fit that profile, I'm afraid you must forgo the crust for your own safety.)

Warm, golden brown.

I decided to try a more traditional one and then something with a little fusion bent.  The first was Chicken Provencial: Cage-free chicken, leeks, potatoes, cream and herbs de provence.

Reminds me of a chicken pot pie.

Each pie is made with a pastry code or cut out shape on top, so they know what's what when they come out of the oven.  It was good.  Not overly flavorful, but more delicate with herbs and sturdy with the other ingredients.

Secret code, check. I know what's inside you!

The next one I tried was the Cornish Masala: Cage-free chicken, green peppers, onions, Indian spices in a curry sauce.

I love Indian spices. They are so aromatic.

This one had a stronger flavor due to the curry.  I ate half of each instead of just one whole pie.  Because I like variety.  I brought them home though, as seating is very limited at the shop.

Stick to your ribs food.

As a special note, they had a bunch of kinds of British candy by the cash register.  I happen to be particularly fond of the Crunchie, which is chocolate covered honeycomb, and they had it.

It's fun to buy candy with strange names
and odd flavors.

Since I was in Vienna, I made a second stop that day to another place with a flag outside.  *Bonus info for you*  To an old time favorite: Nielsen's Frozen Custard.  It's not British at all.  Very American.

Historic exterior. Like an ice cream parlor
on old Main Street, USA.

They make two flavors of custard: vanilla and chocolate.  But you can add in so many things.  They make sundaes with toppings or concretes where they blend it all up.  The combinations are a plenty and you'll never get bored.

Busy, busy dippers beneath the menu board.

I went with a good old stand by of my own: chocolate custard with marshmallow topping.  Oh gosh.  So densely creamy.  Custard has a soft, luscious consistency.  And as I recall, it was pretty warm that day in September.  I believe I ate half of it before I drove home.


That's my car behind it. I had to get you a shot
before it melted anymore and I dove in.

It was a fun trip for me to scout out a place for a food item I had never heard of, never mind tasted before.  I'm always up for any food adventure.  Now I know what a pasty is!  In case the Queen should ever ask me.  Knowing there also was a great custard place a few doors down just happened to be terrific planning on my part.  (My research doesn't seem so silly now, does it?)  So do your homework.  You'll be glad you did.  (Speaking of, I'd better go back and catch up on mine.  Hope I didn't miss anyting else from that far back!)

Nurturing my inner... deep-fried decadence

How could I have forgotten about this place! The Tortilla Factory in Herndon.  When was the last time I had been there?  Two years ago?!  Three years ago?!  The travesty!  What has kept me away?  Have I been so bewitched by an abundance of proficient and readily available chain restaurants that I was temporarily blinded?  Or perhaps because it's tucked away in a half-abandoned, skanky strip mall that I loathe to even drive past?  (Yeah, that's it.)  Well, don't be fooled by the rough and tumble, your-tires-may-be-stolen-right-off-your-car-while-you're-inside, exterior.  Personal safety aside, they have the best chimichanga I've ever eaten.

When I went there this most recent time, I was alone.  And I was not going to eat there, alone.  (Not without a can of pepper spray in my hand and my eye to the door.)  So I got take out.  (In daylight.)

For about $9.00, you get quite the heavy box of wonderful Mexican fare.  (Back your car around, if it still has tires that is, it's of substantial volume.)

Chimichanga or deep fried suitcase?
It surely was the size of some Samsonite.

Like a giant, well-crafted dumpling, the edges were folded so neatly.  And though this doughy purse had obviously been deep fried, it still appeared light and crispy.  Not greasy.  (How they do that?)

Attention to detail is apparent. Made
with love. (And lard.)

The over the top part though, is the guacamole cream sauce.  Oh. My. My.  It's killer!  You add that creamy, tangy, velvety topping to the crackly, chewy, meaty chimichanga and your voyage to cloud nine has begun.  Silky smooth refried beans with cheese and light, fluffy Spanish rice are the perfect sidekicks.

I did my best recreation of their plating when
I got it home. (And I like my plates better
than theirs.)

Enough of the artsy stuff.  It was time to cut open this fried pillow that encapsulated hearty, tender, moist, shredded chicken.  And let me tell you, it was jam packed with gobs of it!  (A whole coop!)  And I have to note, it must have something to do with a flash frying technique, but there was no drying out of anything.  The Tortilla Factory does this perfectly right.  I'm beholden to their expert craftsmanship.

Possibly had an entire chicken in there.

As much as I wanted to down the entire chimichanga in one sitting, my stomach capacity (and my perceived calorie count of the entire madre load being over an entire day's worth of calories) would not permit it.  I knew it would lose some of the crispy factor when I heated up the remaining half the next day, but that was a small price to pay for the immediate moment's bliss.  The half I did snarf down (like mad) was so ridiculously good that first day, that I could forgive the second day's shortcomings with nary a second thought.  No disappointment here.

It's a pity when important things like wonderful, wacky, holes-in-the-wall are forgotten in the rush of a busy life of cookie cutter convenience.  I'm going to add a reminder to my Outlook calendar to go back in a couple months, instead of forgetting again for a couple years!  (Yeah, my memory ain't what it used to be.  I'm not ashamed to employ technology as a helping hand!)

Nurturing my inner... big cheese on the go

Mall food.  Not exactly A Class fare, right?  Convenient is great when you're in a shopping hurry, but at what flavor-absent cost?  I expect more.  And I actually found it.  In the mall of my childhood, of all unexpected places.  (Mind you, the mall has been renovated since I was in stone-washed jeans and Reebok's high tops singing along to "Hungry Like the Wolf" on my portable tape player.  Though all these years later, I was still hungry!)

Cheese Boy Grilled Cheese To Go.  I checked and technically it is a franchise, but tragically there are only two locations thus far: CT Post Mall in Milford, CT (where I went) and South Train Station Concourse in Boston, MA.  I hope they open up more (I'd like to suggest one in Reston, VA for starters), but at least we can take some great ideas from their menu for now.

The sign and the ONLY reason I go to this
mall these days.

You can either get one of their standard, preconfigured options, like The Classic (Italian Bread & American Cheese) or Healthy Melt (Multigrain Bread & Light Swiss) OR you can create your own.  (Which, like duh, you knew I had to do.)  You pick a bread, a cheese and then toppings of meat and/or veggies.  But before I tell you what I got, here is the simple and sturdy, packaging:

I didn't even mind the buttery thumb print
on the box, for I knew the goodness it held
for me inside! (I watched them toast it.)

Note carefully that it seemed appropriate to get an apple juice with my grown up version of a third grade lunch.  Let's open the box and see what we've got.  Oooooohhhh....  Look at that golden, crispy exterior.

I want one right now.  Too bad I'm about 325
miles from the nearest location at present.

I ended up choosing their homemade Italian bread, Munster cheese, bacon and spinach.  And I tell you what - it was the BEST grilled cheese sandwich I've ever had in my entire life!  Without exaggeration.  Here is a closer look:

I was ready to eat a second sandwich. Mom
was lucky she already finished hers or I
would have snarfed down that one too!

I think it was a combination of things. For one, the fresh bread was phenomenal, not sliced too thick, and they must have used butter.  The panini type flat surface press they used gave it just the right amount of compression and toasted it slowly to an ideal shade of golden brown.  Inside of the crunchy crust was the right amount of melted, gooey cheese with fresh, tender spinach, and the bacon was super thin, precooked to perfection before it was sandwichbound.  Why have I never thought to make this combination at home?

This has set me on a mission.  (Well, yet another one anyway.)  1.) I don't own any kind of sandwich press, so I'm looking into this.  I too must now find a way to make my ideal grilled cheese sandwich in my very own kitchen.  2.) I think perhaps a test kitchen party is in order.  Wonder how many variations we all could come up with!  What would your perfect grilled cheese sandwich look like to you?  I just gotta know!