Sree’s/Pittsburgh, PA/Indian

by Robert Isenberg

Sreevardhan Mekala has dark skin, a big smile, and an unflappable mustache. He looks both relaxed and eager at the same time, like an aikido instructor, and his low voice sings in welcoming: “Khelp you, sir?” There isn’t much small-talk with Sree, but the moment he pours steaming tomato dal over a bed of basmati rice, you feel a certain kinship. You are poor, and Sree offers cheap, delicious food. Your lunch-break is brief, and Sree is the master of efficiency. Sree’s is a Hyderabadi quickie: Wham, bam, thank you kitchen-wallah.

Sree has quite the résumé – raised in Hyderabad, earned his Masters in India, became a biologist and researched for the Pittsburgh Oncology Center. According to legend, Sree’s wife, Vydehi Mekala, used to do marketing, but she tired of all the travel and paperwork. “But I don’t mind cooking 12 to 16 hours a day,” she told her husband. It may sound like a chauvinist fantasy, where a wife turns away from a high-profile job to toil over a burner, and customers call her “Mrs. Sree” instead of her real name. And Sree has also forfeited his career in medical science to a run a store, exchanging one stereotype for another. But when you meet them, none of this seems to matter. They clearly love to serve food. And they love to do it fast.

The moment you enter Sree’s, you are caught in a current of activity: You join a line and peruse the menu, which only offers five different items. The items change daily, but you’re choice is limited – on Tuesday, it’s Tamarind chicken, mixed-veggie tofu, chickpea potato, grape leaves curry, and broccoli with lentils. If you go vegetarian, you get three items; if chicken, you get a vegetable side. That’s it. Sree says hello and takes your order, and within 35 seconds, he ladles rice, chicken, dal and a piece of unleavened bread into a Styrofoam container, seals the container and rings you up. Within a minute, you have a $5 lunch and 50¢ can of soda. There are no individual tables, per se, just a ring of tables pressed against the wall; diners are forced to sit next to each other, like drunks at a dive bar. Napkins are paper towels torn from a freestanding roll; silverware is disposable plastic, stuffed into cubbyholes. A standard-issue Sree’s meal will fill you up in 15 minutes flat, leaving 35 minutes of lunch-break to mill around Downtown.

If you come alone – and most people do – Sree’s is the ultimate place to people-watch. It’s not easy; the layout forces you to stare at a blank wall, away from the other diners, but if you take the time to covertly crane your neck, you’ll see every type of customer: High-powered attorneys meeting between court-cases; Point Park students loudly bitching about their stupid dance coach; and a small army of bike-couriers sucking up rice and curry in a desperate attempt to replenish calories. The great equalizer is the can of Pepsi or Mountain Dew; despite Sree’s commitment to healthy, authentic Indian cuisine, chai never makes a cameo.

Not everyone like Sree’s, or even Sree himself. “He used to order large batches of samosas,” recalls a waiter at Peoples, one of Pittsburgh’s most beloved Indian restaurants. “Samosas are really hard to make. It’s slow, tedious work. And Sree would buy them from us so he wouldn’t have to make them himself, and then he’d mark up the price. So it was low labor, high profit. We got tired of it, so we don’t sell them to him anymore.” The waiter pauses. “But other than that, he’s a really nice guy.”

And it's true: Whatever his minor trespasses, Sree's has become a local institution, where hundreds of disparate diners visit every afternoon to feast on low-fat goodness. Sree's cuisine is so popular that there is a satellite restaraunt -- a little red "food-truck" -- parked on Carnegie-Mellon's campus, and students line up for the window, their ulges bulging with hunger.

Pittsburgh is said to boast a conspicuously large number of Indian-Americans, as measured against the city’s total population. Given how many Indian restaurants there are – a half-dozen in Oakland, the city’s university district, another half-dozen Downtown, and dozens more scattered through the environs – Sree’s is wholly unique. There’s no dinner menu, no reservations, no bussers, no place-settings or TV playing Bollywood dance-numbers. At 3 p.m. the restaurant closes. Pity the bike messenger whose lunch-break is delayed.

Thai Me Up/Pittsburgh’s South Side/Thai

by Imogen V. Shahrazad

Ok, I’ll be honest. I’m a big-time wimp. I can’t handle even the most pathetic level of spice in my food. More than one waiter/waitress has derived great amusement from my request for a spice level or zero or one and a glass of milk to ease the inevitable burn. I swear this is relevant information in light of my relationship with the food at Thai Me Up, as I’ll explain in a moment.

Thai Me Up is an adorable twenty-seat restaurant on E. Carson St. Cheery orange walls and large plate-glass windows provide lots of light and make this a great place for a casual dinner with a few friends or an informal date. The servers are extremely polite and prompt, and you can plan on being out of the restaurant in under an hour if you’re in a hurry. Or you could, you know, hang out. In general, the atmosphere is almost suspiciously non-threatening.

As far as beverages go, Thai Me Up makes the best Thai iced tea I’ve ever had. The red tea is topped with a layer of sweetened milk that doesn’t get gooey or sticky on the bottom of the glass, which is a problem I’ve encountered at other restaurants. Admittedly, it’s so sweet that I find it hard to finish sometimes, but I can almost always convince a friend to finish it for me.

As an appetizer, my dining partner Chaynes and I always split an order of spring rolls. Each order comes with two fried rolls with an assortment of shredded vegetables inside. The sweet dipping sauce makes a perfect accompaniment. Also, they are small enough that they won’t ruin your appetite before your entrée arrives.

Finally, my choice for Best Entrée of ALL TIME is the pineapple curry. Remember how I said spicy food is not my thing? This dish is so delicious that I don’t mind the dripping nose and the tingle of dissolving taste buds that I experience as a result of eating curry. The meal is served as a small mound of white rice in a little bowl and a larger bowl of the curry itself. The curry sauce is a beautiful creamy orange mix of coconut milk and red curry filled with a mix of sliced carrots, pineapple chunks, and in my case, fried tofu. (Others may choose to add meat instead.) This is the kind of dish that proves simplicity works.

In short, Thai Me Up is fun, tasty, has a delightfully naughty name, and definitely worth repeat trips.

The Quiet Storm/Pittsburgh’s East End/Vegan & Vegetarian

by Imogen V. Shahrazad

The Quiet Storm is a sanctuary for Pittsburgh’s anti-meat crowd. Vegetarians are largely accustomed to walking into a restaurant with friends or family and having roughly three choices: salad, French fries, maybe even provolone sticks. Upon entering The Quiet Storm, veggies sigh with relief and take their time perusing a menu built just for them.

The interior of The Quiet Storm is fun: thrift store furniture and dishes, eclectic local art, and a staff of tattooed hipsters adding further visual interest. Chaynes and I recently visited for a late breakfast, starting with the house coffee, which is a little strong for my taste; however, I also like my coffee fucking pathetic and thick with non-dairy creamer. I think what I had at The Quiet Storm was what we might call Real Coffee. We ordered the same entrée, deceptively listed as the “Home Fries.” At any other restaurant, home fries would be chunks of fried potatoes with (maybe) a few onions or peppers mixed in. At The Quiet Storm, the Home Fries includes “smashed” red potatoes, caramelized onions, “soysage,” scrambled eggs or tofu (we both got the tofu), cheddar cheese, and aioli—all of it mixed in a nice big pile of food.

Why this is The Most Amazing Breakfast of All Time: 1) the scrambled tofu and 2) the aioli. The scrambled tofu is important because it’s easy to fuck up tofu. Anyone who has ever eaten poorly cooked tofu knows what I’m talking about. It can be tasteless and/or very squishy—and sometimes both simultaneously. Carnivores sometimes assume that vegetarians don’t have taste buds anyway and so they don’t bother to make tofu dishes taste like food. Not so at The Quiet Storm—the tofu is perfectly flavored and cooked to the point of being perfectly chewy, matching the “soysage” in texture. In addition, the aioli is probably a sin. Garlic mayonnaise? Seriously, I’m sure God is troubled by its very existence. In past trips to The Quiet Storm, I have asked for a side of aioli to add to dishes that don’t normally include it.

All in all, The Quiet Storm fucking rocks. If you want non-meats done right, visit the restaurant at the corner of Penn Ave and S. Graham in the Garfield/Friendship area of Pittsburgh. Admire the beards and weird tattoos on the very hip staff and clientele. Delight in the coffee. Chew enthusiastically on the soy-based faux meat products.

D's Six Pax & Dogz/Pittsburgh/American

by Eriq F.

For our impatient readers, here are my instructions: Go to D’s, come hungry, and bring your friends. You won’t regret it. For those of you with patience enough to read the whole review, D’s might be the right fit for you.

But take care, this is not Dee's, it is D's. The difference in name is inaudible, so make sure your friends know to meet you at D's, not Dee's. Dee's is located in Drunk College Student Nirvana (aka Pittsburgh's South Side), while D's resides in Regent Square, a neighborhood where you are more likely to see drunk college professors. Dee's is an excellent place for a game of pool, but D’s it ain’t.

When you arrive at D’s, don’t be surprised if you have to wait for a table to open up. Once you’re seated, it’ll become pretty obvious that this isn’t the sort of place where you do things in a hurry. Making your food fresh and delicious? That takes time. Sifting through the more than 900 varieties of beer on hand? That, too, will take time. So order a tall glass of a beer that you’ve never had before and take a moment to enjoy the hand-painted murals on the walls. Tired of adventure? Unsettled by the unfamiliar names and slightly-above-average prices on the draft list? Don’t worry, there is a small portion of the walk-in cooler devoted to well-known domestic brews from gigantic faceless corporations.

Though the sheer number of beers available can be daunting, the menu is much more manageable, offering several varieties each of hot dogs (of course), sandwiches, pizza, appetizers, and salads. Though I have never met a hot dog that I enjoyed, I ate dinner with a young woman who had been anticipating her provolone and sauerkraut hot dog for several days prior to our Friday night visit. Upon this confession, the rest of our party disclosed that they had also been anticipating thei. So what I deduce is that these hot dogs are good enough that they will haunt your taste buds for several days before and after each visit.

If you’re in a hungry hurry, order some fries. The surprising generosity of the menu’s “small” portion will leave you wondering how big “large” would be (for the curious, it’s freaking huge.) The pizza will take a longer time, but as usual at D’s, it turns out to be worth the wait. Take a moment, enjoy your company, and sip your beer slowly. Patience is a virtue.

Gypsy Café/Pittsburgh/Pan-European

by Imogen V. Shahrazad

Pardon the cliché, but Gypsy Café on Pittsburgh’s South Side is buried treasure. Located on Bingham Street on the same block as the City Theatre, it’s easy to walk by the restaurant and never notice. However, it’s well-worth breaking out your treasure map.*

Upon entering the establishment, one is struck by the inviting warmth of the décor. The lighting is gentle and accented by tealights in purple votive holders that complement the exposed brick, gold-framed mirrors, and local art on the walls. Oriental rugs add further coziness, and one wall even includes an old church pew as part of the table seating. Basically, it’s pretty.

While I’ve been to Gypsy for dinner a number of times, I have only been to their Sunday brunch a few times, including this past Mother’s Day. The best part about Gypsy Café brunch is that each Sunday is a different theme; appropriately, the most recent was entitled the Famous Mothers Brunch, and each of the entrees incorporated names such as Carol Brady.

A lover of all things pasta related, I ordered the scallion gnocchi with a side of sour cream, a petite salad with creamy Turkish feta dressing, and a mimosa. The mimosa was a delicious opener, not too heavy on the champagne. The petite salad is a delicate blend of field greens, chickpeas, and thinly sliced carrots and radishes. Occasionally I find that field greens taste like dirt, but these were fresh and light. The creamy Turkish feta is, in a word, incredible. Again, no flavors are overwhelming; rather, they are deliciously harmonious.

Finally, the gnocchi was a gamble for me, as I have a fraught relationship with the flavor of onions. I decided to try it based on the fall/winter special sweet potato and pumpkin gnocchi with sage brown butter, a meal I’d sell a kidney for. Fortunately, I was not disappointed. My mother ate the onions from my plate, and the scallion flavor in the gnocchi itself was subtle. The pasta was dusted in parmesan cheese, and the sour cream on the side kept it from being too dry. In summation, I ate until it hurt to live.

I highly recommend that anyone living in or visiting Pittsburgh plan to visit Gypsy Café. At entrées ranging in price from approximately $14 to $22, it’s definitely not an affordable everyday dining experience (unless you’re fabulously wealthy, or not a graduate student), but it’s a great place for a date or a celebration dinner. I give my solemn promise that you will not be disappointed. If I’m wrong, you have permission to smack me.

*Bad joke. Sorry.

Joe Mama's/ Pittsburgh/ Italian

by Lauren Rara

Joe Mama’s so …hit or miss anymore that I can’t even come up with a quick-witted quip for my opening line. After the first fateful day I visited this restaurant it quickly climbed its way to one of my favorites. I consider myself relatively picky about Italian cuisine, so when I find a place that’s decent I try to keep it in mind.

Anyway, the lady and I went there the Wednesday before my intensive day of two mind-blowing, bum-raping finals that came the next day. We were excited to eat our favorite (relatively) cheap Italian place. We ordered two plates of ravioli and asked for extra dressing on the house salad that comes with entrees. Some part of me should have thought something was off whenever my fountain coke tasted like nothing but seltzer water and the lady’s beer was flat as our waitress’s personality.

The salad came and the usually tasty, simple homemade Italian was more like an overly spiced paste that came out of some jar. Disappointing, seeing how that is usually the best way to start off the meal. At any rate, our mute waitress brought our dishes out super quick and the sauce surrounding my Rav’s was swimming with water which must have somehow affected the texture of the other raviolis. They were falling apart like goopy mush instead of cheese filled pasta pillows.

For thirty bucks, I’m not sure that this was worth it! And this is the first time I would say that. Next time, I’ll be sure to stick to my artery-clogging stick-to-your-ribs “Hug Yo Belly Gemeli” and the breaded mozzarella triangles—mmm…

I’m sad to even write this review because it feels like I’m being disowned by my own mama, but I guess it’s only Joe's Mama so … better luck next time? Better service next time? Better food next time?

Fuel and Fuddle/ Pittsburgh

by Lauren Rara

It was a hot and unseasonable day; the heat brought out the half-naked Pitt girls in their way too tight Panther Paw shorts and t-shirts. Thankfully, the winter proved a stellar time for fake-baking, for otherwise I fear there would be a pasty situation on their hands. Regardless, it was a day that was too warm to cook indoors so, with a decisive curiosity, my girlfriend and I decided to try out Fuel and Fuddle. I was extremely excited about this place, one because my stomach yearned for something other than dorm food slop and two because I was anxious to try out my fake id. No, just kidding. (Maybe).

Anyhow, the dining space was small, but cozy. It kind of had this sports-bar-cum-brick-oven-pizzeria type feel to it, but when we were seated right in the middle of two other tables of overly excited Pitt boys, I was no longer impressed. Anyway, I think the best part about this whole restaurant is their beer selection. CRAZY beers. I mean stuff I’ve never heard of and could barely pronounce, let alone spell. And WOODCHUCK Draft cider. If you haven’t tried this, then do it. It’s delicious and comes in great flavors like Pear and Amber. Regardless, we got our beverages and then I saw the menu.

There’s a shit ton of greasy, deep-fried, dressed-up dishes with kitschy names but they’re all pretty basic. Burgers. Salads. Sandwiches. I wanted a healthy option, so I got something called “Veg Head Pasta” with Spinach and garlic over penne. My girl got a delightfully greasy dish called “Rollafatty” which is basically just a few honkin’ pepperoni rolls. Our waitress was pleasant enough, when she actually cared to see if we were doing okay and it took a damn while for the food to come. I think her little blonde head thought that if she catered to the students accompanied by parents she’d get a better tip. I recall almost throwing myself into the aisle to get her attention for another drink, but, alas, no luck. Anyway, food came and it looked like shit. I was actually sincerely disappointed.

Seriously. The noodles were so overdone that they were sticking together and the goopy “sautéed” spinach was gritty and unwashed. I took a taste of my girlfriend’s and that was delicious, though I think most of it was masked with the pounds of grease seeping off of it. I mean, beggars can’t be choosers, but if I’m paying close to ten bucks for a dish of pasta I want it to actually taste good and not like something I would in fact get on my meal plan.
Is it so hard to ask for quality healthy-ish food? The menu boasted its availability of vegetarian choices, but I honestly wish I would’ve gotten a pizza or something else. I feel like that’s about the only thing Fueling along that Fuddy-duddy of a joint.