Southwest burger (NICK CAITO)

I think it’s safe to say West Hartford is overrun with burger places. So much so, that my blogger friend Steve Wood (of CT Museum Quest) is going through 48 of the town’s burgers in the next year as a blog project.

While reading Steve’s most recent results last night, I remembered that Nick Caito and I had visited one of the town’s newest spots, BGR Burger Joint, in early December. We had just sampled a $30 tea cocktail across the street at Treva (for work, really) and needed some food in our stomachs.

BGR is a cool place to grab a quick bite. A Virginia-based chain, the West Hartford restaurant is the first in Connecticut. The Farmington Avenue space is sort of music-themed, decorated with album covers and an early-90s soundtrack to boot (at least during the afternoon we visited.) It’s very casual. There’s no waiter service; you grab your order from the counter and choose a seat.

Burgers range from classic beef (“prime, dry-aged, all natural, hormone free, grain-fed” according to the website) to alternative proteins like turkey, lamb, ahi tuna and lobster.

Sides include fries (Yukon Gold; Idaho sweet potatoes); grilled asparagus spears or thick-cut, beer battered Vidalia onion rings. To drink: extra-thick milkshakes, fountain soda (West Hartford has one of those Coca-Cola “Freestyle” machines, with eleventeen billion flavor options) and beer and wine.

I wanted a beef burger, but I was holding steady with our week of vegetarian eating and I didn’t want to be the one who cheated. So I ordered the ahi tuna version, seemingly shocking the cashier when I asked for it to be cooked rare (how else would you eat it?)

Ahi tuna burger (NICK CAITO)

As you can see, it was a beautiful seven-ounce piece of fresh fish, seared lightly and topped with teriyaki sauce, grilled pineapple and BGR’s creamy, spicy “mojo” sauce. Like a maki roll on brioche instead of rolled in rice and nori. Probably one of the better tuna burgers I’ve had.

Nick went with the Southwestern burger, which the cashier described as less of a burger than the consistency of a packed Sloppy Joe. The meat was a bit loose, but contained plenty of flavor from chipotles, poblanos, onion and chilis, along with mojo, pepperjack cheese and black bean salsa.

I wasn’t crazy about the Yukon Gold fries (they were standard-cut and kind of bland) but I did love the array of condiments ready for the taking. Plenty of ketchup, mayonnaise, various mustards and my favorite fried-food enhancer: malt vinegar. And the fries can be topped with Parmesan, rosemary or roasted garlic for an upcharge, should you need a hit of flavor.

If you’re craving a burger in West Hartford, you can throw a rock and hit at least a dozen joints. Some are lackluster, some are wildly overpriced. BGR is in the middle; priced for a quick lunch or dinner but with plenty of quality offerings. Worth a visit.

BGR Burger Joint, 983 Farmington Avenue, West Hartford Center. 860-523-3152, bgrtheburgerjoint.com.

If there’s one thing I love more than food in general, it’s trying new foods. Especially ethnic cuisines that I haven’t yet sampled. In the final days of 2011, I was able to check another one off my bucket list – Ethiopian.

I met several Hartford-area friends for lunch at Abyssinian today. Unfortunately, in the excitement of experiencing new things and catching up with my buddies, I took off my journalist hat. And that means I didn’t accurately note the proper names for our dishes. Apologies. I welcome intel from those familiar with the items!

If you’ve never had Ethiopian, prepare to get your hands dirty. Utensils disappear, to be replaced by trays of injera, a sour, spongy flatbread. You use pieces of the flatbread to scoop meat and vegetable stews. It takes some getting used to (and lots of napkins) but it’s a fun experience, particularly if you’re with a big group.

Appetizer: spicy collard greens cooked with cottage cheese (reminded me of spanakopita filling)

Ground beef balls, served with salad

An edible tray: injera with vegetables

Doro wat (see, I remembered mine!) - chicken stew with hardboiled egg

Spiced lamb bits

I’m looking forward to going back to Abyssinian and trying more delicacies. We tried to order sambusas (pastries filled with meat and vegetables) but were told the “sambusa guy was sick.” Next time, I may go for a beef or lamb dish – without utensils, it was difficult to pull the dark-meat chicken from the bone.

There are good servers, who are friendly and attentive and remember all the details of your order. And then there are great servers, who are so obviously (and legitimately) enthusiastic about a menu item that you feel the need to try it for yourself.

I’d hoped to snag seats in the bar at Vito’s By The Water in Windsor during happy hour last night, but that’s near impossible at 6 p.m. for a restaurant within a few-mile radius of a dozen office parks. So while that meant no half-price raw bar deals, it meant a quiet dinner table away from the after-work crowd and two simultaneous office holiday parties in nearby private rooms.

Our server immediately recommended Vito’s new Zinfandel flight ($12), tasting pours of three XYZin selections. I almost tuned out, because Zin is not my favorite – and overly peppery ones take me back to last December in Sonoma when I missed lunch and didn’t pace myself. (Don’t do that, by the way. Ever.)

But her genuine excitement for this wine won me over, and I ordered the flight, representing XYZin’s “Vine Age Series.” Tasting notes from xyzinwines.com:

The first one, from 10-year vines: “A medium-bodied Zinfandel, XYZin 10 bursts with upfront fruit. The wine offers appealing aromas of raspberry, currant and plum with a hint of sandalwood and lavender. The flavors echo the aromatics with juicy cherry and baked strawberry pie married to attractive pomegranate fruit, rounded out by suggestions of nutmeg and cocoa.”

The second, from 50-year vines: “XYZin 50 offers beautiful briar and pomegranate fruit at its core followed by waves of sandalwood, mocha, and a light whiff of pepper on the finish.  The refined structure and polished spice are perfected through aging in French oak barrels and make the wine versatile enough to complement a variety of dishes.”

The third, and easily the most gorgeous, from 100-year vines: “Lovely cola nut and dark cherry fruit flavors are followed by strawberry jam and cappuccino. Firm, zesty acidity provides vibrancy and longevity and mingles with pleasing earthy accents of slate and chaparral. Aging in a blend of French, American and Eastern European oak imparts a sophisticated array of textures to complement the extensive depth and range of flavors present in the fruit.”

I don’t know if I picked up even half of that, but all I know is that the 100-year wine just smacked of refined beauty. The same “this is so amazing, I know it’s so expensive, I don’t want it to end, because I can’t afford a whole bottle” mixture of pleasure and pain I’ve experienced while tasting Opus One and Rodney Strong’s ridiculous Rockaway. But unlike those, it looks like this XY is retail-priced around $45. Not an everyday table wine, but not a break-the-bank bottle, either.

The 10-year, the lightest and fruitiest, seemed to be the most food-friendly and went nicely with my white ricotta-and-herb pizza. But I saved the “century” pour, trying to sip the two-ounce glass really slowly because I wanted it to last as long as possible.

And it’s all thanks to our server (whose name I didn’t catch, but our check said “Sara”) who took the time to point out this great find. It was a wonderful treat on a Tuesday night.

I thought my first taste of meat after five days of vegetarian eating would be nirvana. And while I didn’t have any major cravings during our meatless week, there were a few moments where I just wanted to rip into a burger. We decided to indulge this weekend at Max Burger in West Hartford, figuring if we were going to eat beef, we’d do it right.

We committed the faux pas of ordering virtually the same meal (Kobe Fun Guy: with medium-rare Kobe beef, truffled cheese, French onion aioli and au poivre dipping sauce – hold the mushrooms for me.) And when the burgers arrived, they looked as gorgeous as they did in my dreams.

But something was off. As Rob tore into his and pronounced it the best ever, I found myself treading more lightly. Yes, it was incredible. Yes, that meat was utterly perfect, juicy and the ideal pink-red through the center. And yes, the rich aioli and earthy truffle cheese elevated the decadence factor. At the same time, it was almost a little too much for me, after a week of grains, vegetables and tofu. I ate half and brought home leftovers – something I hadn’t planned to do.

I guess I should have known what was coming when the restaurant’s “Grateful Veg” burger – with quinoa, sunflower seeds and lemon-tahini vinaigrette – looked especially good that night.

No way am I going full vegetarian, but I think we’re going to continue on this part-time meatless kick. We both agreed the experiment made us feel better; gave us more energy. (I fit in five workouts in seven days; almost unheard-of for me.) I didn’t feel sluggish in the late afternoon like I normally do.

And I had a much more successful round of tofu-cooking last night. Several people told me they’d had better results when freezing the tofu first, and they were absolutely right. It took extra time to drain it, but once it dried out, it pan-fried up beautifully. We planned to save a portion of the unmarinated slices for future meals, but we couldn’t resist – it all disappeared in a matter of minutes.

This week, I’ll be fashioning some kind of black bean and butternut squash chili, and a potential red-lentil soup. I may even make quinoa meatballs again. And there’s a lonely eggplant in my fridge, wondering when it’ll get its time to shine. Suggestions?

Remember two and a half years ago, when I didn’t drink beer? Me either.

Somehow I’ve gone from a beginner beer drinker – favoring light Belgians and fruit-flavored seasonal stuff – to enjoying seriously dark, heavy, hoppy, high-ABV craft selections. (I go H.A.M.)

This Stone dinner at Max’s Oyster Bar was right up my (new) alley. Six spicy courses were paired up with several special-release craft beers from the hugely popular San Diego-area brewery.

Photo Gallery: Stone Beer Dinner

From huckleberry-yuzu bluenose crudo to Thai curry-infused chocolate custard, the flavors paired beautifully with the big, robust brews. And the alcohol content of those beers = no joke.

"Bucket of balls"

I was born and raised in Worcester, but I’ve been spending time in western Massachusetts since the fall of 1999, when I met people from the Springfield area who would become lifelong friends – and introduce me to my future husband that Thanksgiving weekend. Awww.

Reminiscing aside, this piece of trivia is important. It means that I’ve been familiar with the area for 12 years – and until Saturday night, had never eaten at The Federal in Agawam. For. Shame.

Situated in an historic 1860s building, The Federal’s menu is anything but antiquated. (Though its dining crowd skews old. We may be 30 with relatively experienced palates, but a few times, I felt like I was at the kids’ table at Thanksgiving.) The food is very contemporary, creative and downright whimsical in spots. In other words, right up my alley.

Family and friends who love The Federal told us we couldn’t leave without trying the “bucket of balls” starter (pictured above):  little fried risotto balls finished with black truffle butter and fresh chives on a bed of creamy mashed potatoes. They lived up to the hype, but there was one little hiccup: the kitchen was generously sending amuse-bouche plates to each table, and it happened to be a little taste of the same risotto balls. Thankfully, they were tasty enough to eat twice.

I know it’s a good sign when I can’t decide between several entrees, because they all sound incredible. The Federal was no different. Caught between the seared sea scallops “hash” with duck confit, sugar pumpkins, caramelized onion and “scent of Alba air” and the swordfish with spiced tomato vinaigrette, haricot vert and a bacon-wrapped scallop kebab, I chose the latter.

Swordfish with spiced tomato vinaigrette

It was a battle, but a good one, as the swordfish was perfect and the aromatic, bright tomato sauce was layered with flavor (maybe even a hint of curry?) Rob ended up with braised short ribs, one big hunk of fork-tender meat partnered with sweet, velvety polenta; asparagus and a lush red-wine sauce.

We rarely order dessert, usually because we’re too full from dinner. And sweets rarely inspire me, as I’m a salt lover. But something told me to glance at The Federal’s dessert menu, and I’m glad I did. There was a chocolate covered “waffle” sundae (glutton factor HIGH, with maple bacon gelato, salted caramel and chocolate-dipped bacon.) Fresh ricotta beignets. Warm Nutella crepes. Deconstructed lemon meringue pie. And cinnamon-maple crusted churros, served with a “double-thick vanilla milkshake,” mascarpone and a chocolate “straw.”

Of those, we went with the “ice cream sandwich” – a glazed doughnut stuffed with rich chocolate gelato, served with a little cup of caramelized cinnamon hot chocolate and cookie crumbles.

But, wait. There’s more. As if we weren’t having enough fun with the menu, our waitress brought out a cone of house-spun cotton candy, in a tart green-apple flavor.

Next on my list for a future visit: one of The Federal’s char-grilled “paper thin” pizzas, with lobster, guanciale, asparagus, fontina and truffle oil (HOLD ME…) and maybe a serving of the mac and cheese, with truffles and Sottocenere cheese.

I can’t believe it’s taken me so long to get to The Federal, but there’s no doubt in my mind that we’ll be back. And we’re spoiled rotten, living just 15 minutes away. I’d be willing to wager that it’s one of the 413′s top restaurants. If not the best.

So, two years ago today, this happened:

And to celebrate, we drank this:

Rodney Strong Rockaway Cabernet Sauvignon is a wine that floored us during a tasting at the Healdsburg vineyard last December. It’s a single-vineyard blend, described as having “juicy red and black fruit character, and an elegantly round and seductive mid-palate.” I’m no expert, so I can’t attest to all of that. I do know that it knocked the wind out of us upon first taste. And if it wasn’t so pricey, we probably could have been convinced to buy a case.

But unless we hit the lottery, or I pursue a career that isn’t journalism, it’s going to have to remain a special-occasion treat. This bottle of 2007 vintage was a 30th birthday present, and we decided to open it to celebrate our anniversary and our upcoming trip to Spain.

What?? Yes, you read right. At the end of this week, we’ll be eating our way through Barcelona. Next week, we’ll be catching some Mediterranean rays on the beaches of Mallorca. After that…well, I’m not so sure I can be convinced to leave.

More experienced home cooks, and Italians who grew up in Nonna’s kitchen, are probably laughing at me right now. But they’re not going to dim my excitement. I MADE CHEESE.

On Friday night, we had dinner at Rizzuto’s in West Hartford, beginning our meal with a cheese plate. The selection of six cheeses featured their dreamy, fluffy, perfect housemade ricotta. We were in love, especially once we tasted it again with a touch of truffle honey.

On Saturday morning, I found myself flipping idly through a recent issue of Bon Appetit magazine, where I happened upon the page with Nancy Silverton’s DIY ricotta recipe. It was serendipitous, really. I decided I had to make it that night.

The recipe calls for whole milk and cream; I just went with five cups of whole milk. It boiled over quickly – nearly ruining a burner on our flat top stove – but produced a decent amount of curd after settling for 15 minutes. I drained the first batch, reboiled the milk again with a little more lemon juice and then drained the (middling) curds from the second round.

The yield, after about an hour’s worth of drain time? Maybe a cup and a half of ricotta. It’s certainly not a high-volume recipe. But if you’re prioritizing freshness and taste over convenience, this is the way to go. It was really excellent, and you can’t beat the pride factor of making your own cheese, especially when it’s so delicious.

We ate our ricotta in the form of bruschetta, with oven-roasted tomatoes and fresh basil that we’d picked ourselves at Easy Pickin’s Orchard. The rest of our farm spoils included baby eggplants, leeks and Macoun and Gala apples. Next summer might just be the year we splurge on that CSA.

MARK MIRKO / HARTFORD COURANT

Last year, I ate fried butter.

This year, I ate fried Kool-Aid.

Can I get some hazard pay over here?

The famous white clam pizza at Frank Pepe Pizzeria Napoletana

August marked the sixth anniversary of my move to Connecticut, when I enrolled in Quinnipiac University’s graduate journalism program. And I’ll be the first to admit that I wasn’t originally the biggest fan of the Nutmeg State.

In short, my 2005 thoughts pretty much dovetailed with the recent “Worst 50 States in America” series on Gawker, where Connecticut was ranked midway at #31.

“Connecticut is mostly just America’s suburb, a string of medium-sized towns rolling into medium-sized towns, only to be briefly interrupted by decaying heaps like Bridgeport, New Haven, and Hartford. Connecticut has some of the least character or local flavor in the country…”

I spent the first 24 years of my life in Worcester, Mass., which is short on sophistication but long on character. And accents. Like much of central and eastern Massachusetts, Worcester identifies quite a bit with Boston culture, especially its sports fanaticism. Connecticut, which is known derisively as a “drive-through” state to New Yorkers and Bostonians, has no peculiar speech patterns. No strict allegiance to one baseball team. And unlike the rest of New England, they REALLY care about college sports. (But when both UConn basketball teams are national champions, that’s a given.)

So what changed my mind? Well, the food.

In the past six years, I’ve realized just how unique and tremendous Connecticut cuisine can be. This is a state that put pizza and burgers on the map, and serves some of the best of each in the country. Its rich agriculture delivers some stunning crops, and its seas produce incredible fresh shellfish. Cato Corner Farm in Colchester sells its raw-milk cheeses to some of New York’s most celebrated restaurants. And while the state’s vino may not be competing on international circuits yet, the Connecticut Wine Trail is a wonderful weekend tourist attraction, and the wines are improving each year.

I was reminded of how far I’d come yesterday, when I had lunch at Frank Pepe Pizzeria Napoletana with my newlywed friends Diana and Rob. They just returned from a four-week cross-country road trip (see their blog and photos here.) Though they’d tried some of the best regional food in the United States, they waited until their homecoming to indulge a major pizza craving. I think that says something.

As I bit into Pepe’s signature white clam pie, I was struck dumb by the freshness of the seafood. I’ve had the pizza plenty of times before, but this was easily the best I’d had in years. (Maybe a Friday shellfish delivery?) The clams themselves were big, plump and chewy, but it was more about how the marine flavor seeped into the crust and amplified the garlic, herbs and cheese to dizzyingly delicious levels. Unbelievable.

Five years ago, my heart sank as I watched an Enfield DMV clerk chuck my old Massachusetts driver’s license into the trash. Today, it’s a distant memory as I heat up Pepe’s leftovers and take a perfect bite of Connecticut.

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