New to Town? Or ready to get out of the rut of the same ol' same ol' for your night out? Here are five restaurants earning high marks from one discerning dining couple.
Blues and good Southern cooking go together like biscuits and gravy, and Blue 5 in Downtown Roanoke blends the two into a delicious mix, all tied together in a sultry and appealing atmosphere. The decor fills in the bottom with a steady rhythm of veteran guitars, dark wood and blue lights that evoke the Memphis skyline twinkling off of the Mississippi. A loft with extra seating shaped like the prow of a riverboat completes the image.
There were plenty of choices to slake our thirst on a recent Friday; from an ambitious list of 16 premium draft beers (conveniently demarcated into "Dark" and "Light" categories), to a number of specialty martinis.
Once we were watered down and settled in, our meal began with a basket of shot-glass-sized corn muffins with garlic and herbs. This is bread worth filling up on. Go ahead, that's why God gave us Styrofoam.
We soon moved on to an array of Southern-inspired dishes that tasted like Lightnin' Hopkins sounds. Prices ranged from $11.50 for the moonshine chicken sandwich to $28.95 for the eponymous "Filet." The chicken & biscuit soup begged to be ordered and lived up to expectations: creamy with something surprisingly tangy like sherry (apparently it's a state secret, and our friendly and knowledgeable waitress Nikia wasn't talking). It came served with the top half of a buttermilk biscuit riding on top like Jake and Elwood's fedoras, which was mouthwatering, but a bit chewy for some diners' tastes.
The pan-seared scallops appetizer came lightly browned, tasting fresh and flavorful without being too greasy, and plated with a salad of arugula drizzled with a blood orange reduction and topped with shaved parmesan. This was a winner at our table, but the crab cakes on fried tomato appetizer was a bit of a let-down. The crab cakes themselves were meaty and tasty, but the tomatoes were dry, too tough and somewhat lacking in spices. Mamma made hers with a lot more pepper, cayenne and garlic powder.
The Moonshine Ribs (winner of two first-place awards at the 2008 Big Lick Blues Festival Rib Cookoff, as Nikia proudly boasted) were a lot like my first wife: not as tender as I'd have liked, but plenty saucy. Dry-rubbed and basted at the last minute with a garlicky moonshine sauce (this recipe is apparently as top-secret as that of the soup; no threats or bribes would induce the waitress to sing), they pack plenty of flavor and a touch of heat.
But the fried chicken stole the show and might be the best symbol of Blue 5. Crisp and flaky, and pleasantly non-greasy, with a flavor that will make you smack somebody. This chicken was dirty enough to love, but clean enough to bring home to Mamma.
Blue 5 Restaurant, 312 Second Street, 540-904-5338
Frankie Rowland's Steakhouse on Jefferson Avenue, in the gritty heart of Downtown Roanoke, would make a fine setting for a scene in a Dashiell Hammett private eye story. Dark mahogany, luxuriant chairs bound in rich green leather, and just enough light to see the double-cross before it's too late.
At the bar, a somewhat limited selection of beers - a good steak and a cold draft are a fine match, in my book - was offset by a downright notorious selection of specialty martinis. Black raspberry, the infamous pineapple martini that spawned a wave of imitation in downtown Roanoke some years back, and expertly prepared classic martinis serve as refreshing aperitifs. Beautiful, seductive and a little dangerous, each is a femme fatale in a glass.
When our table was ready (actually, a while after it was ready; we had been running late, and a gracious host staff kept it waiting), we took a moment to peruse a refreshingly simple menu: all entrees and side items are offered a la carte. The obvious showcase is the offering of steaks, though seafood and lamb options are also available. A well-traveled wine list (and a bit of help from our warm and attentive server) offered a fine accompaniment.
An appetizer of succulent roasted duck leg fairly slid off the bone, and was matched very well with a berry sauce and greens, while delicately steamed oysters on the half shell came served with Tobasco and lemon, but were much better paired with a spicy relish.
My ribeye - a magnificent 22-ounce cut of tender and well-marbled beef - was served unadorned, showcasing the impressive flavor of the meat with minimal distractions. This steak was outstanding, even to a steak enthusiast. If I have a bone to pick, it would be that I ordered medium rare, and it was served Pittsburgh-rare, charred outside and less done inside than I'd have preferred. It was delicious nevertheless, and went well with creamy potatoes au gratin under a golden crust.
My wife's jumbo lump crabcakes were full of firm chunks of meat, and paired nicely with fresh asparagus - cooked to an al dente perfection - in hollandaise sauce.
A smooth, rich creme brulee with a decadent caramel crust and a seasonal apple cheesecake gave this dark tale a happy ending while revealing a broad range of kitchen talent to match the front-of-the-house workers' ample skills and welcoming hospitality.
Frankie Rowland's Steakhouse 104 Jefferson Street, 540-527-2333
There's a split-personality feel to Ichiban Japanese Steakhouse in Oak Grove Plaza; the hibachi grill is flashy but down-to-earth, and the sushi bar is its more complicated twin. A recent visit to the steakhouse side found the griddle-ringing tables to be a bit smallish (I got to know the knee of the gentleman seated next to me better than either of us would have liked), with 10 seats arrayed around the chef's workspace. Aficionados of the tepppanyaki house won't find much novelty, but there is no lack of showmanship and fresh food.
All entrees come with a somewhat humble salad and a hearty, smoky hon dashi soup: Clear, austere broth with shavings of mushrooms and bonito.
Our chef was quite personable, and seemed to have as much fun practicing his craft as we had watching it. It was decided in our party that if we were going to try to replicate his pyrotechnics (a sliced onion stacked in a cone, a few veggies and a little oil and water created a credible and edible Mt. Fuji, complete with three-foot plume of fire and pyroclastic teriyaki sauce), we would be well-advised to do it in the driveway, at least 30 feet from the house. The egg for the fried rice leapt from the spatula like a ballerina, and we were treated to the obligatory shrimp-into-mouth toss, with appropriate ridicule for those who aren't motivated enough to catch them.
The offerings from the hibachi were somewhat basic, though fresh and well-prepared. Beef, chicken and seafood choices are cooked on the flat-top griddle with teriyaki, sesame and panache, and served with egg-fried rice and a simple, light medley of broccoli, onions and zucchini.
A subsequent visit to sample Ichiban's sushi offerings also included a show, but in this case, the theater was all on the plate. In a nook sheltered somewhat from the spectacle of the teppanyaki chefs, the cozy sushi bar is a bit more sedate. However, the mixture of flavors, textures and colors presented are downright riotous. This is the part of the house that really shines. Order too much and take some home.
Sixteen varieties of Nigiri (hand shaped sushi and rice) are presented simply with wasabi and pickled ginger, while a wide variety of specialty rolls combine flavors and textures of fresh seafood, vegetables and rice are plated over a riot of abstract designs in sauces and pastes.
Ichiban Japanese Steakhouse 2004 Electric Road, 540-725-1288
Don't go to Mamma Maria's.
If you like chain Italian restaurants, don't go to Mamma Maria's. If you are satisfied with indifferent service, don't go to Mamma Maria's. If you like your sauce from a jar, your tomatoes from a can, and your mozzarella from a plastic bag, don't go to Mamma Maria's.
Because Mamma will spoil you.
Tucked away amid some nondescript businesses in a dense area of West Main Street in Salem, Mamma Maria's is easy to miss, but once you've eaten there and experienced the staff's hospitality and commitment to serving amazing food that showcases the best traditions of Italian cooking, you won't need a trail of bread crumbs to find your way back.
The staff's passion for fresh and savory foods became apparent when a manager arrived at our table with the wrong appetizer. I was on the verge of pointing out his error when I realized that he was actually simply showing off something that had been dreamed up in the kitchen, independent of menu or planning. Our benefactor (very pleasant guy named Vito, who apparently makes a habit of such gifts) served us a simple presentation of sliced cheeses with peppercorns fanned around a mound of shredded eggplant, sautŽed lightly in olive oil, taking obvious pride in the dish. "You take a bite of that cheese, and follow it with a sip of wine," he said, pointing to my wife's glass, "it'll take you to a whole other place." He wasn't wrong.
After our actual appetizers arrived - fried calamari, a perfect blonde and much more tender than I'm used to, and served with a spicy marinara, along with sautŽed mussels (ask for them fra diavlo, it's not on the menu, but the added heat really stands up well to the shellfish) - yet another unbidden sampling of firm, flavorful red and green tomatoes, drizzled with olive oil and vinegar with mozzarella di bufala and roasted red peppers showed up at the table. If there was a downside to this abundance, it's that we were far from hungry when our entrees arrived, but frankly, my heart will go on.
Selecting entrees presented some small challenge in that there were so many to choose from. Your favorite Italian dish is somewhere on this thing, and if it's not, you're just being difficult. Shame on you. A full page of chicken, another of seafood, and another of veal, in addition to classic staples like eggplant parmigiana, lasagna and manicotti. As if that's not enough, there's traditional and gourmet pizzas, Panini, calzone and stromboli... Come on, guys! Uncle!
In the end, I chose the lobster ravioli, which came in a pink cream sauce with shrimp and crab meat which may have been just a little too flavorful to allow the taste of the ravioli to shine through. My wife's sausage rustico had copious amounts of sausage in a light, simple tomato sauce that actually tasted like tomatoes.
As for the service, I've never had better. The dining room staff was helpful, efficient and personable, and the amiable bartender Brendan pointed me toward the selection of Italian draft beers, while helping my wife choose the perfect wine to augment her meal.
Take my word for it; don't go to Mamma Maria's.
Mamma Maria's 2025 West Main Street, Salem, 540-389-2848
You had a terrible day. You locked your keys in your car, and realized your umbrella was inside it just as the downpour started. The dog bit, the bee stung, and you're starting to suspect that your career path was ill-advised. What you could really use to turn this around is some comfort food. Hearty, delicious and completely non-redeeming in any nutritional sense.
Take heart, o seeker of guilt-free belly-solace! Wildflour Restaurant & Bakery on Fourth Street in Roanoke's Old Southwest neighborhood has heard your anguished cry! A classic small-town edifice completely fronted in windows, this cafe serves as a touchstone for many Old Southwest denizens, and beckons to the rest of the valley with a broad array of delicious food that will soothe your soul with flavor and ease your conscience with fresh whole foods.
On a recent Thursday evening (don't ask about the day that preceded it), we stumbled in and found a table, and the smells of hearty baked things (Wildflour! Get it?) blended with the sights of happy diners gathered amid the work of local artists in the best decorated Quonset hut in town to foreshadow some good things to come. Our witty and hard-working waitress Shannon lost no time in fortifying us with some life-bringing selections from the wine and beer list (a chardonnay for her, a la Fin du Monde golden ale for me, best thing to come out of Canada since John Candy, for my money). She had our appetizers cooking practically before we had ordered them.
The fresh mozzarella on toasted sourdough, garnished with scallions and roasted red peppers, was a fine example of their devotion to garden-fresh, whole ingredients, prepared and served simply. Meanwhile, a cup of white-bean chicken chili preserved the textures and flavors of celery, onions and beans that can be lost when soups are overcooked.
The menu boasts an entire page of vegetarian meals. Southwestern dishes, a souped-up macaroni-and-cheese, and the California grilled cheese (a personal favorite, stuffed with sauteed mushrooms, green peppers and onions and jazzed up with bleu cheese dressing) combine to make a mockery out of any charge that eating vegetarian means depriving yourself of great, hearty food. Every ingredient really shone through in my wife's spinach ricotta pie, right down to the wonderful flaky crust. Ask Shannon for the recipe.
My own pork caprese was sliced thin and seared with tomatoes, mozzarella, herbs and a balsamic reduction that brought out the flavor of the pork very nicely. This came served with firm broccoli, but the mashed potatoes were a real stand-out. Too often restaurants seem to really struggle with how to cram more flavor into the humble spud, crippling it with bacon, cheese, chives, garlic, etc. These tasted like potatoes, again showcasing Wildflour's theme of appreciating fresh food on its own merits.
But let's cut to the chase. After the kind of day we've all had, we didn't come to a place with Bakery in the name for the pre-dessert action. Fasten your seat belt. Wildflour serves a staggering array of cookies, shortbread, eclairs, cakes (served by the slice or whole), bars and shortbread (what, no pie?). My own eyes were drawn to the Better than Sex cake. Dense and rich chocolate cake, drizzled with ganache and caramel, and riddled with chocolate chips, nuts and God knows what else... You'll tell your spouse that the name's not true. But that night, you'll lie awake thinking about it.
Wildflour Restaurant & Bakery 1212 Fourth Street SW, 540-343-4543
