​Maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised to learn of a resolutely green cocktail that touted was touted to me the other day at McGonigel’s Mucky Duck.  McGonigel’s, and it was less than a couple of weeks from St. Patrick’s Day, which looms rather large on the calendar at this long-running showcase music club and restaurant-bar in the Upper Kirby District.  The owners and staff had come across the drink at a cocktail bar in San Diego the previous week and were quite impressed.
 
Being a huge from of The Clash, the name immediately made me think of one of the many enjoyable songs on the iconic, proto-punk first album.  Its name, from an ancient nursery rhyme about the Great Fire of London of 1666, has the opening lines:
 
All across the town, all across the night
Everybody's driving with full headlights
Black or white, you turn it on, you face the new religion
Everybody's sitting 'round watching television
London's burning with boredom now
London's burning dial nine-nine-nine-nine-nine
 
It turns out that this song has, unquestionably, no connection to the cocktail.  Or any cocktail, or any food-related item, at all.  Even so, exhorted by Rusty and Teresa, the owners of The Duck whom I’ve gotten to know in recent years, and knowing that the bar does a very good job with cocktails, I ordered it.  Just reading the list of ingredients, I could tell that it had absolutely nothing to do with the song nor London, nor any place near London.  It begins in the kitchen with a puree of jalapeños, that have been seeded and roasted, along with avocado, cilantro and lime juice.  Then at the bar when ordered, some of the puree on hand is mixed with some syrup and lemon juice.  The result is green with flecks of dark cilantro scattered about.  I would never consider ordering a drink that looked like that if I hadn’t been strongly touted on it.  Avocado in cocktail, too.  I don’t believe that I’ve ever had a drink featuring an avocado.
 
When it arrived in front of me, I thought it looked like the product of an aggressive cleanse recipe from a juicer.  I loved it.  The taste of the roasted jalapeños shown through providing a bit of smoke and spice that was nicely muted and complemented by the avocado and sugar.  It wasn’t a sweet drink, more on the piquant side, but balanced, with the gin working well in a subtle alcoholic concert with the verdant ingredients for very pleasant long taste and was easily drinkable.  Maybe too easily.
 
Teresa told me that the name comes, in part, from the London Dry gin that gives it is alcoholic interest.  The ‘Burning’ from the jalapeños, I assume.  OK, the moniker does actually make some sense.  The name could change in the near future as she mentioned they are thinking about replacing the London dry gin with Hendrick’s.  Its prominent cucumber notes could make this different-looking cocktail even more enjoyable in the future. 
 
McGonigel’s Mucky Duck
2425 Norfolk (a couple of blocks east of Kirby), 77098, (713) 528-5999
mcgonigels.com

​I finally made it Segari’s the other day.  Segari’s, in its current on Shepherd between I-10 and Washington and in previous incarnations, has been serving its brand of regional Gulf Coast seafood and more since 1971.  The esteemed Robb Walsh rang high praises about Segari’s shrimp and gumbo for years, giving some credence to the restaurant’s tagline of “World Famous Gumbo and Fried Shrimp.”
 
I’m sorry I waited so long.  The Grilled Bacon Wrapped Shrimp preparation I had featured absolutely terrific shrimp, impeccably high quality, large and perfectly cooked.  These were moist, and with an excellent texture that was tender enough – properly not soft and definitely no hint of toughness that might indicate too much time on the heat – and nicely assembled with the thin pieces of the affixed bacon, that stayed affixed, nicely complementing rather overwhelming the flavor of the shrimp. These were best grilled shrimp I’ve had in memory and it was one of the top shrimp dishes I’ve had in quite a while, up there with the barbecue shrimp at Mr. B’s in New Orleans earlier this year.
 
Unfortunately, there were only five shrimp to my order.  I could have eaten several more, as delicious as they were.  Also unfortunately, the shrimp came with an order of the worst onion rings I might have ever had and the worst garlic bread I’ve ever had.  The onion rings had an odd and odd-tasting breading.  A friend thought it looked like breading that was old.  It didn’t seem like that to me.  Rather, it was just dull-looking, not flavorful and bland, at best.  An odd complement of horseradish-spiked cocktail sauce was necessary with them.  Next time, I’ll go for the fries or Rosemary New Potatoes as my choice of a side.  The very dry garlic bread that prefaced my order seemed like two length-wise halves of what appeared to be supermarket-purchased bolillo bread without much in the way of discernible butter or olive oil, nor garlic, and that was left in the oven to affect the consistency of two misshapen croutons. 
 
And annoyingly, there are no prices on the menu.  Your bill’s total seems to be dependent on the price of the seafood and the whim of the restaurant.  My order which didn’t feature a ton of food was $27.95, quite expensive for me for lunch.  There’s not a lunch menu.  But I’ll be back to this quirky, homey little bungalow-set spot – just nine tables and about the same number of seats at the bar – for some of its succulent shrimp, at the very least.
 
Segari’s
1503 Shepherd (between I-10 and the railroad tracks), 77007, (713) 880-2470
segarisrestaurant.com

​I finished a terrific meal this summer at Parizzi, the only Michelin-starred restaurant in Parma, with three ages of Parmesan, well, Parmigiano-Reggiano: 24, 30 and 36 months.  Each version was quite enjoyable, each with a distinct flavor and textures.  Moving from the more familiar and nuttier to saltier, more intense, more complex, drier and so more crumbly and crunchier as I moved to the 30- and 36-month pieces.  I found I a very appropriate way to end a rich dinner in Parma, one that had included grated Parmigiano to great effect atop a couple of previous dishes. 
 
A booth at the Taste of Italy event a couple of weeks ago reminded of that dinner, the conclusion, at least.  Cantarelli, a cheese producer in the province of Reggia Emilia in operation since 1876, had samples of their Parmigiano-Reggiano aged 24, 30 and 36 months, which I greedily devoured.  The representative explained the differences among the ages and how 36 months might be the peak of aged Parmigiano as the flavors considerably break down by 48 months in his opinion.
 
In addition to the quality of the cheeses I sampled, I was impressed with the packaging.  The company sells these three ages along with a few others including Parmigiano made from the milk of the famed red cows, Vacche Rosse, and another from the Bruna Alpina breed, in opaque 3-ply aluminum packets that helps the cheese retain its proper flavor after opening and guarantee a shelf life of one year.  It certainly seems much better than the shrink-wrapped plastic used by Costco, Spec’s and Murray’s Cheeses, the places where I usually pick up Parmigiano and its brethren.  Cantarelli, being an Italian company, also made its packets much more attractive than the typical domestic packaging. 
 
I don’t believe that Cantarelli is available in Texas, or even in the US, but it is certainly worth keeping an eye out for it if you are a fan of Italian food and might enjoy an occasional deeply savory coda to dinner.